


Getting to Forever

by Fabrisse



Category: Glee
Genre: Big Bang Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-05
Updated: 2011-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-23 11:17:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 53,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fabrisse/pseuds/Fabrisse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts while Kurt is still at Dalton and ends during their third year of college.  A lot happens in the meantime, including work, scholarships, travel, and sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lima or Westerville, It's Still Ohio

**Author's Note:**

> My beta was Gileswench who has spent the better part of six months reading this in bits and pieces and various wholes -- and it's not even her fandom.
> 
> Artist:   
> In addition to the lovely banner and icon above, she made a fanmix for the story.  
> RAR OF MIX: [ Maybe found here](http://www.megaupload.com/?d=E6W3SDB0)  
> MIXTAPE FRONT COVER: "http://i1109.photobucket.com/albums/h429/alittleaskew/mixtapes/holdyouclosefrontcover.jpg"  
> MIXTAPE BACK COVER: "http://i1109.photobucket.com/albums/h429/alittleaskew/mixtapes/holdyouclosebackcover-1.jpg"
> 
>  _I began this as soon as the Sign-ups started for the Big Bang. Kurt had not yet returned to McKinley. Age retcons had been discussed in interviews for Kurt, but Blaine was supposed to be a year older. *sigh* Only Ryan Murphy knows the characters' ages, but I kept them a year different for my own nefarious purposes._
> 
>  _If you have read some of my other stories, you will recognize some of the ideas in here and my original character of Aunt Kent. While canon has jossed some of my earlier stories,_ I’ll Be Your Valentine, Let’s Do Lunch, _and_ The Winter Holiday _series all have elements that I’ve either reused, expanded upon, or woven into this story._
> 
>  _In addition, I have included links to many of the sights referenced in the story. I hope it enhances the experience._
> 
>  _This became an AU just as soon as the new episodes returned in March, and it diverges most around the final episode of season 2 where Kurt talks about his plans for the future. What I hadn't expected was that real-life would also turn this into an AU._
> 
>  _Congratulations New York. When I started this, your historic legislation hadn't passed, so another city gets to be important in their lives._

Kurt Hummel went into the Guidance Counselor's office as soon as he heard his name called.

Mister Caldwell smiled and motioned him to the chair across his desk. He opened a folder, called up a record on his computer, and looked back at Kurt. "Why do you look so terrified?"

Kurt gave a wan smile. "I haven't been called into the guidance counselor's office since my dad was in the hospital. It's never good."

The man behind the desk leaned back in his chair and smiled sympathetically. "I'm sorry. I thought you realized. Every sophomore will be called in over the next two weeks for an interview with me. We do our best to hold them during the student's study hall…"

"Every sophomore?"

"This is your first round of college advisement. You'll start making your applications at the end of next year, and what you choose to take your junior year will play into what universities you'll apply to."

"Huh. At McKinley, the juniors get appointments in May so they can start getting their applications in if they're applying for early admission. I don't think anyone sees the sophomores." Kurt shrugged.

"It's a bigger school. Your guidance counselor may not have the time." Mister Caldwell tried to hide his shock behind kindness.

Kurt sat looking at the advisor expectantly.

Caldwell continued, "This is the first of three interviews you'll have with me. It's the shortest. You'll walk out of here in about ten more minutes with links to two different assessment tools that I want you to complete before our next session and, when you return, you'll also bring me a short essay on what you enjoy most." He looked to see if Kurt was attending closely. "That interview will go over the results of your assessments, the essay, and I'll have spoken with your teachers and have their input to include. The final interview will consist of recommendations."

Kurt nodded. "I think that sounds wonderful, but I have to say, I probably won't be a Dalton student next year. It seems like a lot of effort on your part for someone who isn't staying."

"All right, let's start there. Why do you think you won't remain at Dalton?"

"It's expensive. I don't see how Dad and Carole can continue to pay for it without making a big dent in my college fund and possibly Finn's too."

"Finn?"

"My stepbrother. I've already talked my Dad out of mortgaging the business, which I don't think was really something he seriously considered, but it needed to be discussed. Instead, we've started proceedings against the school district with a pro bono attorney through the ACLU helping to guide our lawyer. At the very least, we hope to get McKinley to institute a no tolerance policy similar to Dalton's." He rolled his eyes. "And as well enforced."

"Good luck in that quest. And if the money is an issue," Caldwell turned to the computer and flipped through a couple of screens, "I think you might be able to apply for an academic scholarship for next year. It would only be partial, but if it makes a difference…" He hit the printer icon and got together a packet for Kurt.

Mister Caldwell smiled. "The top page has the links to the assessment tools I want you to use, including your user name and a temporary password. Underneath are the forms for Dalton scholarships. In the meantime, I'll do some research into scholarships and programs for public school students."

Kurt seemed taken aback. "Why, sir?"

"Because, whether or not you stay, you're a Dalton man."

***  
His homework was over fairly quickly that evening. Kurt had already completed his weekly creative writing assignment and prepared for his geometry test; it still floored him how well he was doing in geometry. He had an early morning tutoring session with Wes for Chemistry, so he didn't need to do any more on that for the moment. He picked up the links for the assessments Mr. Caldwell had assigned him and began the first one.

When the Skype tone came from Blaine, an hour and a half later, Kurt was more than a little surprised that so much time had passed. He answered and smiled to see Blaine looking harried.

"What's up?"

"I get trig, really, I do, but calculus is killing me. I mean, I know we haven't gotten to multi-variate yet, but if it's obvious a technique won't work for multiple variables, why do we need to learn it?" Blaine pushed his glasses up his nose, and Kurt hoped his sigh of pleasure wasn't audible. He would never admit it outside the privacy of his bedroom, but he kind of perved on Blaine in glasses.

"I understood the word calculus in that sentence, and I have no idea why we need to learn it."

"Well, I finished my set and I thought I'd see how you were doing."

Kurt sighed. "I think I did this Myers-Briggs assessment wrong, but I'm not sure how."

"It's impossible to do a personality test wrong." Blaine's grin lit up the screen.

"It has to be. It says I'm an introvert. I mean the rest of the alphabet soup makes some sort of sense, but _introvert_?"

"I can actually help you with that one. I'm an introvert, too."

Kurt stared at the Skype window trying to see if Blaine was joking. "There are clips on YouTube of your expressions during the lines 'I'm so gangsta I'm so thug' that would seem to disprove that statement."

"I asked Mister Caldwell about it last year because my reaction was the same as yours. But he said it's about how you recharge your batteries. Do you go out to a party and come back energized or do you quietly listen to music or go to a museum?"

"How can anyone recharge by going to a party?"

Blaine chuckled. "And that statement alone proves you’re an introvert. We're only about a quarter of the population, you know."

"What about the second letter?"

"Are you asking what I got?"

Kurt nodded.

"I'm an 'N.' Well, I got 'X' initially, sort of equally balanced between 'N' and 'S,' but the follow-up questions made it clear -- at least to Mister Caldwell."

"Me, too. And I didn't even need follow-up questions, though I will for the third one. And then there's the 'J' which didn't surprise me at all."

"Nor does it surprise me. I'm actually a 'P' by the skin of my teeth, but it was really close to the line."

Kurt thought before he said, "I can see that. You adapt to the people around you, and you think things through from all sorts of angles. Like that bisexual argument."

"Yeah. It doesn't mean I don't have a temper."

"I noticed. Have I ever said sorry for what I said? I've done some research since, and, even if I were a hundred percent right -- which I wasn't -- I should still have given _you_ my support and the benefit of the doubt."

Blaine nodded. "One of the things about being a perceiver, when I lose my temper I can go right below the belt because I can see where the vulnerabilities are. It's not something I like about myself. But, whatever else I may have been right about, I should _never_ have compared you to the guy who assaulted you. I went too far. And I never said how much I value what we have."

"You're saying it now." Kurt took a deep breath. "Does it sound corny to say I'd never had a real friend before?" He shook his head. "That's not exactly what I mean. I love Mercedes and she's my bestie, but…"

"Yeah. I know. You're that friend for me, too."

"In that spirit…" Kurt frowned at the camera, and then immediately smoothed out the line in his forehead. "I told Mister Caldwell that I'll probably be back at McKinley next year. He gave me scholarship information, though the best I could hope for is partial, but if we win our lawsuit, Karofsky's expulsion will stand."

"I thought you might. You miss them."

"It's ridiculous, I know. It's not like I ever got a solo or didn't hate every gay joke Santana ever made, but I feel more like part of them than I do the Warblers -- even though I know the Warblers have taught me a lot more about music."

Blaine's voice went soft as he said, "You were a more mature singer on your first day than I am now. I'm glad you feel like we've given you something to take with you."

Kurt rocked back in his chair. "I."

The silence extended.

Finally, Blaine said, "Finish what you were going to say." It was barely a whisper.

"I thought I'd still have you -- my friendship with you. I know our clubs are rivals, but…" His voice was rough, but he kept the tears out of his eyes.

"Kurt. I didn't mean that to sound so final. For what it's worth, Wes is looking into the acapella rules to see if we fit better there than under the show choir competitions. So you can cheer us on, and we can cheer you on next year." Blaine started speaking faster. "And yes, we saw each other at least twice a week and most weekends even before you came to Dalton. And did this most evenings. You won't lose me by going to McKinley. I… " He took a deep breath. "We're friends. That doesn't change."

Kurt touched his palm to his heart. "I'm sorry I overreacted. What you said sounded so final."

"I'll miss you -- seeing you every day. I like that."

Kurt smiled shyly. "Will we see each other over the summer?"

"I don't know. I've been going to summer camp in Wisconsin for years, and they offered me a counseling job, but I … for all I complain about calculus, I know I want to be an engineer. I thought maybe I could learn more by getting a construction job or something. I don't know how to go about it, really, but …"

Kurt nodded. "Give me a day or two. I may have an idea."

***  
The second interview with Mister Caldwell was far deeper than the first one had been. Kurt found himself opening up about all the different aspects of the bullying -- several other people in his life had bits and pieces, and Blaine had most of it, but he'd never really told all of it to anyone before. He made it very clear that his strongest ambition was to get the hell out of Ohio.

Caldwell nodded, asking leading questions, and listening intently to the answers as he made notes.

As they were wrapping up, Mister Caldwell asked one final question. "Kurt, I know Ohio feels confining to you, but you've mentioned money issues. Would you consider staying in Ohio for college in order to do better when you leave?"

Kurt thought hard. "I can't answer that right now. OSU has no appeal for me. I know that. I'll think about it."

Mister Caldwell stood and shook Kurt's hand. "That's all I ask."

***  
Blaine came to dinner that Friday, and Kurt guided the conversation to union apprenticeships and summer jobs as subtly as he could.

Finally, Burt turned to Blaine. "Kurt's already a member of United Auto Workers, so I know he's not asking this for himself. You want to be a mechanic?"

"Dad, no." He glanced at Blaine a little shyly. "Or maybe he does, but what he'd mentioned to me was construction. UAW, I could have told him about, but I don't have a clue about LiUNA. I thought you might have contacts."

"Jim Kawalski down in Cincinnati and Chris Christensen in Cleveland." He turned to Blaine. "I don't know where your folks live so which would be better for you?"

"My folks are in The Hague for the summer. I wasn't invited to join them. They expect me to go back to summer camp as a counselor. But I don't have a burning ambition to treat a bunch of ten year olds for poison ivy -- again -- or teach swimming and riflery. It makes more sense to me to start learning about what I want to do with my life. If I'm going to design buildings or bridges one day, shouldn't I know how they're actually built -- the man hours needed, the jobs that make sure the toilets flush..." He gave a little shrug.

"I'll talk to both of them and see if I can get you an interview. You'd better impress one of them if you don't want to spend your summer getting high on calamine lotion. You're looking at this as a springboard, and there's nothing wrong with that, but some of the kids who'll be applying, this is their ticket to a job for life."

"Yes, sir."

"If you don't have a preference, I'll start with Kawalski. I know him a little better, and he appreciates smarts. I assume you'd want a Saturday interview?"

"If I have a day's notice, I might be able to make a weekday interview. I'd have to get permission from the Dean of Academics, but they understand about summer jobs."

Burt nodded. "All right then. I'll see what I can do."

***  
The phone was picked up on the first ring. "This is Kawalski."

"Hey, Jim, it's Burt Hummel. You got any apprenticeships open this summer?"

"Well, you're right to the point."

Burt rolled his eyes. "How are Sonya and the kids?"

"Matt's going to OSU in the fall, and Janie has a boyfriend which is not making me happy. The kid's a punk. Sonya has gotten on a health food kick."

"Tell me about it. One little heart attack and Kurt's become the food police. Fortunately, Carole's taken over most of the cooking, but she's still keeping me to the grass and seaweed diet."

Kawalski chuckled. "It's not that bad at my house. Yet. Is it Kurt who's wanting the job? I thought he was UAW?"

"He is, and he went and got himself certified in a couple of rare cars as well as BMW and those hybrids. He's a real asset to the garage. This is a friend of his. We had to send Kurt to a private school right around Thanksgiving and this is a friend from there."

There was a long pause. "Is he like Kurt?"

"Ask the question flat out, Jim."

"Is this friend really Kurt's boyfriend? Is he gay?"

"Kurt swears they're not boyfriends, but I think it's like you and Sonya at his age. She wasn't your girlfriend, but she was about to be. And yeah, Blaine's gay. That a problem for you?"

"No." Kawalski took a deep breath. "It might be for some of the guys who work for me. A couple of pranks on the new apprentice, it's expected, but I won't let it get out of hand. And I'll fire anyone who makes it about being gay. _If_ the kid passes the interview. How do you handle the boyfriend thing, if that's what it's coming to?"

Burt sighed. "I don't know yet. I will say, Kurt seems happier than I've seen him in a long time. And as he's reminded me more than once, he's a guy, too."

"Hey, at least he can't get anyone pregnant."

"Tell me about it. My stepson had a scare like that last year. Turned out the girl was lying 'cause she was frightened of her folks, but still. On the other hand, Kurt got sent to Dalton because he got death threats."

"Crap. I can't imagine what I'd do if that happened to Matt or Janie." Kawalski got a pen and paper. "All right, give me the name and number of Kurt's friend, and I'll see if he's worth taking a chance on. I've got three apprentice slots open for the summer."

"Thanks, Jim, and if he doesn't impress you, I understand."

"You think he won't?"

Burt thought for a moment. "Blaine's a rich kid -- sure of himself -- but I think he's smart. And I think he's willing to work, or I wouldn't have made this call."

"So give me his phone number already."

***  
Mister Caldwell had a thick packet of papers on his desk when Kurt came back for his final interview. The first thing he said was, "Your teachers are very impressed with you. We haven't had too many mid-semester transfers and certainly none who've made the honor roll in their second term. Many have made honor roll their second year, mind you, but you're very bright and apparently know how to work hard with it."

"Thank you, sir."

"Have you thought about what I asked?"

"About leaving Ohio?" Kurt said.

"Yes."

"If it meant a full-ride scholarship, and the program was good, then yes, I'd stay through college. Anything less than a full-ride, well, I think I can find other schools that would offer me at least partial scholarships."

Mister Caldwell smiled. "I'm sure you could. I've included three Ivy League schools on my list for you, and any one of them would probably offer you a good financial aid package including sizable academic scholarships if you keep your grades up."

"Which three?"

"Brown, Cornell, and Columbia," Mister Caldwell said. "Yale might also be a reasonable fit for you. If you stay at Dalton, I think you have an excellent shot at one of them. I put Brown first because it emphasizes the Liberal Arts. It's in a small city, but close to Boston and not too far from New York for the occasional weekend. Columbia, of course, has all of the advantages of New York City, but the major disadvantage of being a huge stage. It's harder for a freshman to find himself or be noticed on a campus that size."

Kurt nodded. "And if I go back to McKinley?"

"I'd still recommend you apply to Brown or Cornell, but I don't think your academics will get you as noticed when it comes to the financial aid packet. I did some research. McKinley isn't well regarded even among public schools. For all it's primarily suburban, it gets some of the worst SAT scores in the state and even acing your classes there might not be seen as a particularly impressive feat."

"I have a friend who once said, 'the square root of four is rainbows,' and she's still passing her math classes at McKinley."

"Right." Mister Caldwell shuddered. It pained him that any school wasn't serving its students well.

Kurt gestured at the stack. "I'm sure that's not all about the Ivy League."

"No, it isn't. I have a couple of other schools that I thought might be good ones for you -- Northwestern, Carnegie-Mellon, Tulane, St. John's, which has a different kind of curriculum, and Georgetown, if you wanted to pursue languages."

"And in Ohio?"

Mister Caldwell grinned. "In the nineteenth century, there was a fad for wealthy people to support their universities with scholarships for those they felt were less fortunate, but well-rounded. Many of them had very specific requirements."

"All right." Kurt sounded a little skeptical.

"Most of these scholarships have fallen into disuse. Some are no longer offered because their endowments didn't survive financial reversals, but I found one…" If anything his grin widened. He handed Kurt a thick sheaf of papers and continued, "The Hellespont scholarship is not only full ride, it will pay for your dorm space, meals -- there's even a bursary to cover your books. It hasn't been awarded since 1966 because the requirements are so rigorous, but it's still an active scholarship."

"What school? What are the requirements?"

"[Oberlin](http://new.oberlin.edu/). The first requirement is that you must have lived in Ohio at least ten years at the time of application which I know you pass, and you're not over twenty-five, so that's fine. Two consecutive years at an Ohio public high school -- that's a little more problematic. One of the things I was going to recommend to you, if you return to McKinley, was to combine your junior and senior years by taking intensive summer school. I thought it would get you out of your uncomfortable situation quicker, but if you try for this one, you'll need a full two years at McKinley once you leave here. There's an athletic requirement, you must spend two years on a team. I was surprised to find in your record that you spent half a year as a cheerleader. You'd need three more terms of a team sport -- it can even be junior varsity, I checked. Most importantly, because it's a joint program between the College of Liberal Arts and the Conservatory, you must have a demonstrated talent in either instrumental or vocal music. A recommendation from your Glee Club advisor should be part of your application, and they’ll require an audition. But I think, if you're willing to work, you have a real shot at this."

Kurt's eyes were wide. " _Everything_ covered."

"Oberlin's in the top twenty-five schools for Liberal Arts in the country. And everything would be covered as long as you maintained a GPA above 3.3, played a sport -- it can be a club sport -- all four years, and took both Ancient Greek and a modern foreign language for at least four semesters."

"Ancient Greek?"

"Apparently, our anonymous scholarship provider thought everyone should read the classics of philosophy in their original language."

"Wow. My mom went to Oberlin."

"That would also be to your advantage." Mister Caldwell looked at him. "Think about it. We would love to have you stay at Dalton. That scholarship application I gave you last time should be back to me by the end of March, if you're interested."

"I really need to talk to my Dad."

"Of course you do. One of the sheets in that packet is a list of your teachers who would be willing to write your recommendations -- either for the Dalton scholarship or for university. All of them agreed, and that's not common."

Kurt took the packet and tucked it into his bag. "I… Thank you, sir. I'm speechless at the amount of research you did for me. I will look at all of it."

"Whether or not you use any of it, I'll have the information for my files. And Kurt, I'm glad I got a chance to meet you. You're a fine young man." He held out his hand and Kurt shook it firmly.

***  
Blaine knocked on the door to the construction trailer and nearly got hit in the face by the door opening out. A woman in her mid-thirties peered at him over cats-eye glasses and said, "It's not like this has only one occupant. Come in and tell me what you need."

"I'm here to see Mister Kawalski."

The woman looked at his uniform in disbelief. "You're the one applying for the apprenticeship? All right, I'll let him know you're here." She gestured to an upholstered chair in the corner, and Blaine sat.

She spoke into a walkie-talkie. "Jim, your two o'clock is here, and you aren't going to believe it."

Blaine flipped through a two year old copy of _Newsweek_ that happened to be lying around and hoped that his hands weren't sweating. He'd been able to arrange the interview for an afternoon where he had back-to-back study halls, so he probably wouldn't miss any class time, but it meant he hadn't had time to change.

Ten minutes later, a man in his mid-forties came in through the door. He took off his hardhat, and followed the secretary's gesture toward Blaine. "I take it you're Anderson?"

"Yes, sir."

"Jim Kawalski. Come with me." He walked toward the back of the trailer, and opened the door to a small office. There were blue prints pinned everywhere with titles indicating phases and colored markings and strings linking various pieces together. There was also one framed blueprint behind the desk and Blaine found himself staring at it as Mister Kawalski motioned him into a seat.

"What do you think the hours are?"

"Seven a.m. to four p.m. if you're keeping strictly to day shifts and you allow an hour lunch. If you're not sticking to day shifts, the hours could be anything."

"Would you work a split shift?"

Blaine blinked. "I'd prefer not to, but if that's what's required, certainly."

"Swing shift, third shift, night shift?"

"I've never really understood the term swing shift, but I have no objection to night shift or third shift. I can see why men with families might prefer not to have them, so assigning a single guy would make sense."

Kawalski smiled. "Good. You didn't try to pretend you knew everything, and you’re not demanding the best hours. That's helpful." He thought for a minute. "What do you get from this? I mean, yeah, the pay's better than McDonald's, but they have air-conditioning."

"In talking to my guidance counselor and doing some research, I found that the classes I love and the things I enjoy make me lean toward engineering as my future career. I think I'd be good at it, at least the math and design parts of Civil Engineering. Look, I know how shallow this may sound, but I was watching a show about the Golden Gate Bridge on the History Channel, and it talked about how many of the modern innovations in construction came from that project. It was the first to require hardhats."

"I know. The union wasn't pleased about it at the time, but by the time the bridge was finished, they were mandating them on new projects."

Blaine smiled. "Yeah. This show was the first time I'd heard about the calculations that engineers and project managers do -- how many deaths and injuries a given project would have."

Kawalski nodded. "It's a fact of life. Accidents happen."

"But something as simple as saying the men couldn't weld in a confined space for more than twenty minutes at a time prevented a number of deaths. And the hardhats. They slung netting under the bridge and lives were saved. I thought if I knew the way a site worked, maybe I could keep that really cold calculation to its absolute minimum."

Kawalski said, "I'll tell you something, kid. Last year, there was a clear blue sky and then this sound, like nothing I'd ever heard before. It was a bolt of lightning, and it killed one of my crane operators. Planning only does so much." He looked at the young man in the piped blazer, and tried to assess him.

Blaine looked at his interviewer and then found his eyes drawn again to the framed blueprint behind Kawalski.

"You keep looking behind me, Anderson, why?"

"I haven't really learned how to read a blueprint yet, but the equation in the upper left corner is wrong, isn't it?"

Kawalski's jaw dropped and then he smiled. "Three people recognized that the drawings were wrong. None of them was an engineer on the project. We had to take it to adjudication and the union was preparing a strike before one of the senior partners in the design firm -- at the adjudication hearing -- looked at the print and realized what the project manager and the foremen had seen."

"The I-beams would be the wrong width for that corner?"

"Yep. It might have taken awhile, or it might have happened on opening day, but that corner would have collapsed." Kawalski stood and shook his hand. "You're hired, Anderson. Any questions?"

"Where will the project be -- I mean is it here or somewhere else -- and do you know a cheap place for me to rent over the summer nearby?" Blaine was thrilled that he'd been taken on.

"You'll be working on this project. They're paying a premium for a twenty-four-seven build. Just let me know your last day of school and you can start as soon as you want after that. I'll get back to you on the other."

"Thank you, sir. I won't let you down."

"You'd better not." Kawalski grinned and showed him out of the room. "Teresa, take all of Mister Anderson's information. He's going to be an apprentice here."

The skeptical secretary looked up at her boss, who nodded as he walked back out of the trailer, then turned toward Blaine. "I need to see your social security card, a form of photo ID and your birth certificate for the I-84."

"Won't my passport suffice? I have my social security number memorized." He handed her the little blue booklet.

She read the form. "You're right. The passport's enough. I don't think anyone's ever used one before." She took it and went to make a copy.

When she handed it back to him, Blaine said, "Thank you." He made it back to Dalton before his last class.

***  
"Dad, can I talk to you?"

Burt took a long look at his son and nodded. He was pretty sure it wouldn't be sex questions, this time. "What about?"

"My schedule over the summer."

"I assume you want to coordinate it with Blaine's?"

"That's part of it." Kurt looked away for a moment as he thought about how to phrase things. "On the Blaine front, he's going to be working a regular shift, seven to three, Saturday through Wednesday, at least for the first month. He may get put on nights or the three to ten pm shift then, but he'll still get his two days off back to back."

Burt nodded. "He's lucky. Not all apprentices do."

Kurt smiled. "It's because he didn't ask for either Saturday or Sunday as one of his days." He glanced at his Dad and said, "I'd like to have the following schedule. We've been talking awhile about the garage staying open later on Sundays in the summer, at least to seven in the evening. I'd like to work a ten hour day on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays and then two five hour shifts on Saturday and Sunday to make my forty hours a week. I'll work any shift on Saturday, but I'd like to do either a three to eight pm or a two to seven pm on Sundays."

"Let me think about the ten hour days. If I decide against it, would you be willing to work a full shift on Saturday or Sunday?"

"Saturday. And not more than a half day on a late shift on Sunday."

"I'm pretty sure you're not doing this for church."

Kurt smiled. "The scholarship that Mister Caldwell told me about would require me to be on a sports team or in one of the club sports in college. I really liked the fencing module we had during gym at Dalton, and Oberlin has a fencing club. I'll have to do something else at McKinley, but I thought if I could learn fencing, I'd be ahead of the game. There are beginners' classes on Sunday mornings at a salle in Dublin."

"You really think you have a shot at this thing?" Burt didn't want to discourage Kurt, but he'd read those requirements, and they'd seemed tough. Then again, Kurt was pretty tough, too.

"I won't know if I don't try. And maybe after the first six week course, I'll decide I hate fencing. But for right now, this seems like the best way to explore the possibilities."

"It does," Burt said. "I swore to myself I wouldn't ask you again, but …"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Blaine and I have moved out of the friend zone. Dating seems like an odd word for it. It's not that different from before …" Kurt's smile was shy but genuine, and Burt was thrilled to see it. He'd think about the reasons later.

"All right. Here are the rules. He can stay over on his night off, but he sleeps on the pull out in the living room and you're in your own bed by midnight. I'll do bed checks if I have to. You will have a one a.m. curfew on the nights you don't have work the next day and an eleven p.m. curfew on the nights you do. If I ever smell alcohol on you, you're grounded for a week, and if you drove, it'll be for a month."

"Yes, Dad."

"Blaine seems like a good kid. Young man. I have to remember, you're both young men, not kids." He thought for a moment. "I think seven will be late enough on Sundays. Will that give you enough time to get back from your class and get to the shop, or should I make it just a four hour shift on Sunday?"

"Let's make five on Sunday, but if I find after the first week that I can't make the drive safely before two in the afternoon, I'll tell you."

"That works. I'm still thinking about the ten hour days. I assume you'd want early shift?"

"That would be ideal, but I know the other guys might have their own reasons for wanting that, too, so talk to them before you let me know."

Burt pulled him into a hug. "It's always a pleasure doing business with you, son."

***  
They fell into the routine of their summer fairly easily. The first week had been tough for Blaine, he just wasn't used to the level of physical labor, even though he was in pretty good shape.

Jim Kawalski had talked to his wife after asking Burt Hummel why Blaine was asking about rentals. Since his son was going to be away for the summer, he'd offered Blaine Matt's room and meals with the family for a reasonable weekly sum.

Sonya had taken to the kid right away, too, and if Blaine's good manners made Janie's boyfriend look bad, that was all the better.

He'd told Blaine to have a pair of cheap sunglasses handy that would fit under goggles. The first day, the pair had black frames. There'd been a couple of practical jokes, nothing serious and no different from anything pulled on the other two apprentices, but there were a couple of remarks about Blaine's orientation. On his fourth day, Blaine had worn his lowest cut jeans, a slightly too-tight Katy Perry muscle shirt that David had given him as a joke, and pink sunglasses.

One of the senior men on the worksite said, "You might be a fag, but you got balls, kid."

No one ever made another remark.

***  
 _Their relationship, the romantic one, had started with a kiss. It was awkward and over too fast. But the second kiss, which happened a nanosecond after their first one, was better. And the third kiss was perfect -- Kurt actually thought of the end of_ Princess Bride _when he remembered it._

 _Since they were still at Dalton at that point, they'd been careful not to do anything where they could be seen on campus or in uniform off campus (since the PDA rules were among the strictest in the handbook). Being forced to progress slowly drove Blaine a little crazy -- not that he was a sex fiend, but he was a teenaged boy -- and allowed Kurt to figure out what his boundaries were._

 _On the last weekend in May, just before their final exams, they went to the Starlight Drive-in just outside of Columbus. They'd gone for the opening night a couple of weeks earlier and found out that making out in the backseat of Kurt's Navigator was about as much room and privacy as they could get._

 _Over the previous two weeks, they'd begun to move past any lingering shyness and both of them knew the heavy feel of each other’s hands under shirts and the sharp jab of aching erections. This time, Kurt didn't ask Blaine to stop when the soft noises and firm touches electrified his spine. This time, Blaine looked up into Kurt's eyes, pulled him into the messiest, wettest kiss ever, and ground his hips against Kurt's leg until he came groaning Kurt's name._

 _Their eyes had locked and Kurt saw the sweat form on Blaine's forehead, felt the heat of Blaine's hands on his neck, and watched as Blaine trusted him with his most vulnerable moment. He'd leaned in to brush his lips against Blaine's, when his back had arched and his body wracked with pleasure as suddenly and unexpectedly as any wet dream._

 _Blaine's eyes had softened as he pulled Kurt down on top of him murmuring sweet words and petting him through. "Oh, my angel."_

 _Kurt had kissed him then. "Hardly angelic."_

 _"There's heaven in your eyes."_

 _They'd had a fit of the giggles at that, but it was the moment that told them both that what they had was both real and worth fighting for. They hadn't said, "Love," yet, but they knew it was beginning to grow between them._

***  
Kurt got his ten hour days, and Burt couldn't complain that he didn't work them full out. He'd let his classmates at Dalton know that he, and Hummel's Tire and Lube, had certifications in some of the more obscure and upscale cars and it had helped business.

Burt knew there was one guy who drove to them twice a year from Indiana because Kurt had gotten certified on Citroen, so he shouldn't be too surprised, but it was gratifying to see Kurt take real pleasure in the work -- even as he was still worried about what Lava Soap was doing to his skin.

And he could tell when it was five o'clock because a Mini convertible would pull into the lot outside and Kurt would light up like the Fourth of July. Often they just went back to the house and Kurt would cook for everyone. Sometimes, he and Blaine would head to a movie and bring back Chinese or Indian food for dinner. (Burt had learned not to ask for fast food, and not even to joke about KFC for fear of giving _Kurt_ a heart attack.)

He'd asked about their "weekends" off, and, really, he tried not to think about the mysterious smile Kurt got before answering. It seems they'd been to Oberlin one day, to look at the campus and visit its museum. They went to Toledo, Cincinnati, Cleveland, even Indianapolis, any place within driving distance that had museums or free concerts. Or maybe, Burt thought, it was any place that had an open road to get them there.

Even on the nights they stayed closer to home, Kurt always walked in just before his curfew. Burt knew better than to ask what they did. If his old man had asked him what he and Anna were up to, he'd have said "talking." He was pretty sure Kurt and Blaine were talking like he and Anna used to, but, and sometimes this scared him more, he and Anna _had_ spent long nights deep in conversation. Their life together -- ultimately, Kurt -- had come out of summer nights spent making out and talking about their hopes, their dreams, and the world of their future.

The front door opened and Burt glanced at the clock. Carole smiled at him as she came home from her book club. "They're parked down the street under the street light that's gone out."

Burt smiled back. "I'm sure they're just talking."

Carole's laughter got him off the couch, and they walked upstairs together.

***  
Kurt took to fencing quickly. By the end of his second lesson, he had asked for pointers and a daily routine he could do to get his body used to the demands of the foil. He took yoga classes on Tuesday nights, and Blaine too, to work out the kinks, and started joining Finn and Puck doing weight training a couple of mornings a week. When the sixth week of his six week introductory course rolled around, he signed up for the Advanced Beginners course which met an hour later. Burt adjusted his work schedule by an hour and smiled at seeing his son really enjoy a sport.

The month of July had turned hot. There was rain, but all it did, in Kurt's opinion and the immortal words of the Hitchcock classic _Rear Window_ , was make the heat wet. The sun was beating down when he came out of his fencing class. He saw the tire nearest to him was flat and then glanced at the back -- another flat. Kurt walked to the other side of the car and confirmed his fears. All four tires were slashed. He turned on his heel, walked back into the salle, and called his Dad.

"I've got Puck and Finn taking the flatbed down to get your car back here. Have you called the cops?" Burt asked.

"Not yet. You first."

"Stay in that gym until the cops or the others get there."

Kurt sighed. "They'll be closing soon. I mean locking up for the day. Jimmy said he'd stay with me until twelve-thirty, but at that point they actually have to close down the building."

"Well, stay inside as long as you can. Puck and Finn should be there by one. I'll call Andy and ask him if he can stay a little later until you can get here for your shift."

"Thanks, Dad."

Burt said, "Be safe," and hung up the phone.

At twelve-forty-five, Jimmy came up to Kurt and said, "I'm sorry, man."

"Don't be. You've been extremely kind." Kurt smiled and walked with him to the door, staying with Jimmy as he locked up before turning and heading to the car. Leaving the building had been like being slammed with a wall of heat.

They jumped him as he was tossing his bag into the back of the car. Burt had taught him some self-defense basics when Kurt said he was returning to McKinley, and Kurt found himself using them instinctively, beginning with an elbow driven into the solar plexus of the first guy who laid hands on him.

He kept fighting, using hand, feet, and teeth until they had him pinned against the tarmac, his right arm twisted up behind him, causing agony in his shoulder. He still tried to kick out when a rough hand started fumbling with his belt. Kurt knew he'd screamed, but no help was coming.

Then it stopped. The pressure was off his arm and he could hear scuffling. There were sirens in the distance and he rolled over to try to get out of the way. He saw Finn and Puck taking on his attackers. When the cops finally rolled up, Puck had knocked one guy out and was pinning down another. Finn was kneeling on the back of third. Kurt saw the fourth guy running back toward him, and stuck his leg out to trip him.

Around him there were statements going on -- Finn was saying something about his brother -- and finally a nice woman in an EMT's uniform asked Kurt if he needed help getting on the gurney.

Kurt shook his head, and tried to stand, he heard himself scream again, and the EMT lady, had him lie down on a board, and several people picked him up and put him on the stretcher.

The police officer gave Finn a moment to talk to Kurt. "I've already called, Dad. He'll be at the hospital as soon as he can."

Kurt nodded slowly, "Thank you. Thank Puck, too. Blaine?"

"He's at work."

Kurt said, "Thank you, Finn," wincing as he realized his lip was split. He closed his eyes as the doors shut on the ambulance, not noticing the tears streaming down his cheeks.


	2. Healing

The whistle blew to stop work, and Jim Kawalski yelled, "Anderson!"

One of the other apprentices chuckled, "Somebody's in trouble."

Blaine walked across the girder to the work elevator, and went down to see the foreman, who looked grim.

Kawalski said, "Burt Hummel just called. They're taking Kurt to Mount Carmel Hospital. You're off for the rest of the day. Call me tonight and let me know what's going on. You have the week if you need it."

Blaine stared at his boss. "What? Why?"

"He was attacked in a parking lot, apparently. Just go. And as for why, well, if anyone needed time off for a girlfriend in the hospital, I'd give it to him. Same thing, right?"

Blaine nodded. "Thank you, sir," he said as he headed to clock out. He was in his car and on his way when he heard the whistle to start work again.

***  
It was always tough to watch your kid be sick or hurt. It didn't matter that Kurt was nearly seventeen.

When he came to the hospital, Blaine, whose job was closer, was already there holding Kurt's left hand and talking quietly with him. Burt stood and watched them for a moment until a policewoman tapped him on the shoulder and asked if he was Kurt's father.

Burt said, "Yes," and entered hell.

The policewoman tried to be gentle. "Kurt, I'm Officer O'Connell. I'm here to talk to you about the fight you had in the parking lot earlier."

Kurt had drawn himself up in the bed and fixed his eyes on her. "I was not in a fight. Four men jumped me, shouted epithets, and tried to…" He took a deep breath and continued, "Tried to rape me."

"So where do you know them from?"

"I don't. Until today, I'd never seen them."

Burt could see his left hand tightening on Blaine's but the other boy didn't flinch and didn't take his eyes off Kurt, like he was lending Kurt his strength.

"Describe to me what happened."

"I came out and found my tires slashed, went back into the salle, called my Dad and the police…"

"What time was that?" Officer O'Connell asked.

"Around eleven-thirty."

"Go on."

Kurt took a deep breath. "When the salle closed, I went to put my bag in the car. I knew the tow truck was coming -- that Finn and Puck would probably be there in a few minutes. The police still hadn't come, but I'd given details and they said they'd take a report over the phone later. I felt a hand on my shoulder and another at my waist, and I screamed. They kept telling me to shut up. Calling me a fag. Saying they were just … just going to give me what all homos wanted. When my brother and Puck peeled them off me, they had me pinned. I'd already lost a molar and the guy standing in front of me, all I could see were his shoes. He threatened to kick my teeth in so it would feel better when I sucked him."

Officer O'Connell nodded as she made notes. "Are you gay?"

"Yes."

"Had you come onto them?"

Burt had to move quickly to stop Blaine.

"You have a very protective brother," Officer O'Connell said just as Finn and Carole came in with little cups of jello.

Finn said, "Your doctor said this was all right. Ice cream too, but they only kind they had was cones and that wasn't good for your jaw. Mom and I didn't know what kind you liked so we bought one in each flavor."

Kurt did his best to smile. "That was very sweet of you both. If there's a blue one, I like that best. Green's my second favorite." He turned to Officer O'Connell, " _This_ is my brother, Finn, and my stepmother, Carole."

She looked at Blaine. "And you are?"

"I'm his boyfriend." Blaine nodded to Burt that he was all right and took the orange jello that Finn was offering him. He went right back to Kurt's side, opened Kurt's jello cup and held it firm while Kurt tried to eat left handed.

Officer O'Connell asked Kurt, "Are you sexually active?"

Finn turned red and said, "Mom, Burt, let’s eat our jello in the waiting room."

Burt smiled wryly, "You and your mother go out to the waiting room, but Kurt needs to have a parent here." He turned to Kurt, "Unless you'd be more comfortable with Carole?"

Kurt looked at them both and finally said to Carole, "I know I have no privacy with this, but it would be easier without you and Finn here. Dad too, but I know that won't happen."

"I understand, sweetie." She came over and kissed his forehead before leaving the room with Finn.

Officer O'Connell repeated her question.

Kurt said, "Define your terms."

The policewoman narrowed her eyes to stare at the teenager in the hospital bed. His lip was stitched, there were abrasions on the right side of his face and the right jaw was turning color and swollen. His left eye was blossoming into a shiner, and his right shoulder had been immobilized after relocation. She didn't understand how he could be so defiant.

She sucked in a breath. "Have you ever masturbated another person? Been masturbated by someone else? Given oral sex? Received oral sex?"

"Yes to all four." He was careful not to look at Burt.

"Been penetrated anally?"

"No. Nor have I …" He gritted his teeth and said, "penetrated anyone else."

"How many people have you had sexual relations with?"

Kurt looked at Blaine and did his best to smile. "Just one."

"And you're sure you didn't do anything to provoke them? Make them an offer that you're embarrassed to talk about in front of your boyfriend?"

"I didn't." Kurt snapped. "And what would it matter if I had? Why should the police department care if I got on my knees and blew the entire school at assembly? My dad would have a right to talk to me about morality, my boyfriend about fidelity, but as long as I did it willingly, it shouldn't matter. These people tried to take something unwillingly and whether I'm gay or straight, a virgin or a slut shouldn't fucking matter to you." He glanced at his father and said quietly, "Sorry about the language, Dad."

"I didn't even notice, son. Officer O'Connell was just leaving, and I think I'll make sure she gets to the elevator safely. Finn and Carole would probably like to offer you more jello. And Puck's still out in the waiting area."

"I'd like another jello. And Puck's welcome, too. I need to thank him."

Burt smiled at Kurt. "I'll tell them to come on in. Let's go, Officer."

***  
Two days later, Burt and Blaine helped Kurt get into the house. Carole already had the first course on the table -- chilled avocado-dill soup, a favorite of Kurt's -- when they came in, and Finn cleared a space for Kurt to get to a spot where he could eat left handed.

Kurt was under strict orders not to leave the house for a week, and to keep his movements to a minimum. The small bone in his left foot which he'd broken would probably heal quickly if he stayed on crutches for the next two weeks, but the freshly relocated right shoulder meant he couldn't do much with the crutches for a few more days. At least there'd been no concussion.

The dinner was great. Kurt ate lightly, partially because his food had to be very soft, and took his medications about halfway through the meal.

Finn handed over cards from Mercedes, Rachel, and Brittany. "Rachel said she'd make you some of her 'Get Well' Cookies, just as soon as the doctors say you can really chew again."

Kurt thought a moment. "As long as they're not almond cookies, okay? I read that book where the girl covered her cyanide with almond extract. I intend to be full competition for her next year."

Finn smiled. "Yeah, I'm more worried that the two of you will rule the glee club, and I'll never sing again."

Kurt tried to shrug, then hissed and thought better of it. "Well, there is that."

Blaine giggled and Burt and Carole grinned at each other. The conversation became general for the rest of the meal.

"Blaine's staying with me tonight," Kurt said when Carole and Blaine brought out ice cream and syrup to let everyone make their own sundaes.

Burt nodded. "I'd already planned it."

Carole smiled and said, "I made up the pull-out earlier."

"No, Dad. He's staying in my room with me." Kurt's voice was soft, but there was an undercurrent of steel.

Burt looked at him and then at Blaine who sat down and never once took his eyes off Kurt.

When the silence had stretched too long, Kurt said, "Blaine, will you take me to a hotel?"

His eyes remained on Kurt. "If that's what you want, Angel."

Carole and Burt shared a long look with each other.

There was a tight nod from Kurt, and he said, "Blaine?"

When Blaine stood and started to hand Kurt his crutches, Burt held up his hand, "You're staying here. Blaine can stay in your room."

"Thank you, Dad. Carole."

Finn looked back and forth between Burt and his Mom. "You'd never let me have Quinn or Rachel stay in my room."

It was Carole who said, "If you date any girl seriously for as long as Kurt and Blaine have been dating, we can discuss it."

Finn's eyes went wide. He glanced at Kurt and Blaine and then nodded to himself. As soon as dessert was over, he excused himself to go out and meet Puck for a movie.

About an hour later, Blaine helped Kurt out of his chair, and he and Burt got him upstairs to his room.

They changed for bed in silence. Blaine helped Kurt when he needed it, but he kept his touch as impartial as he could to try to avoid any embarrassment. When Kurt's hand rested against his cheek as he was helping him balance down into his vanity seat, Blaine looked up at him.

"Fuck me tonight," Kurt said.

Blaine kissed his palm and stilled. "Why?"

"Look at me, please."

"You're beautiful, Angel. I can't say no to you, and I think I should."

Blaine hated to see the pain on Kurt's face.

"I know we talked about waiting until we were both sure, but…" He swallowed. "You're my first. You're supposed to be my first for everything, and they tried to take it away from us. Please, Blaine."

He placed his hand against on Kurt's good cheek. "I'm not saying 'no,' but I want you to listen to me."

Kurt nodded feeling his beard rasp against Blaine's hand. "I hate not shaving."

"The stubble’s kind of hot. But I promise you, the day your stitches come out -- if the doctor says it's okay -- I'll take you to my barbershop for professional shave. I promise you, it's just as sensual as a facial." At Kurt's look, he added, "Not that kind of facial."

They laughed for a moment, and Blaine said, "You're on painkillers and muscle relaxants. I'm worried that a few weeks from now, when they're all finally out of your system, you're going to rethink this and hate me for taking advantage of you."

Kurt closed his eyes and sighed. "I just want -- _need_ \-- to feel like, like losing my virginity is my choice -- the who, where, when… right now they're all perfect."

"It's the ‘why’ that worries me."

Kurt said, "Please, Lover."

Blaine leaned his forehead against Kurt's waiting for him to open his eyes. "I told you, I'm not saying 'no.' If you change your mind, at _any_ point, just say ‘stop.’ I will."

Beautiful aquamarine eyes looked back at him. "I know. That's why I trust you."

"Well, right now, I'm kind of regretting helping you on with your pajamas. On the other hand, I do get to have the supreme pleasure of taking them off you."

Kurt giggled a little.

Blaine could hear an underlying note of pain to it, and his heart broke just a little. "Let me help you to bed and get everything we'll need."

From the bed, Kurt watched him find towels and an old blanket to put by the door. "Are you trying to soundproof my room? You could just tell me to be quiet."

"Since I'm pretty sure most of Columbus, not just the drive-in, heard you come last Friday, I'm not sure quiet is in your vocabulary. And I need to hear you tonight. Your face is bruised, so I can't watch your expressions as well. Oh, and Angel, the second you can support your weight on your shoulders, I plan to be fucked by my boyfriend."

"You could just ride me."

Blaine chuckled. "Maybe when we've done this a few times…, but right now, I'm afraid one of us might break something." He looked at Kurt intently. "I want you to be my first, too, for everything. And I know I haven't said it before, but I love you -- I'm in love with you."

Kurt took Blaine's hand and kissed his fingertips. "I wish we could kiss properly."

Blaine leaned over and very gently pressed his lips to the unstitched side of Kurt's mouth. "I think the little scar is going to be sexy."

"I'm in love with you, too," Kurt whispered.

"I'm so glad." He stroked Kurt's forehead until he felt the muscles in his face relax, and then he began, very gently, to make love to his boyfriend.

***  
When Burt came down to breakfast the next morning, he found Blaine stirring a saucepan in a t-shirt and pajama pants.

"You got laundry going?"

Blaine smiled. "Just some towels. I can't believe Kurt wanted steel-cut oatmeal for breakfast. I mean, I know he can't chew, but it's such a winter thing."

"It's a comfort thing. His mom made it for him when he was sick. He told you to add cinnamon, right?"

"And a pinch of ground cloves. Yes. And to make it with skim milk, not water." Blaine rolled his eyes and gave the pot another stir.

"Think Kurt would mind if I stopped in to see him before I go to work?"

He thought about what Burt was asking: Was Kurt dressed, would the room smell like sex, was his son all right. He said, "I think he'd love it. He's in the bath right now, but you could either help him out, so the food doesn't get cold, or you could finish up the food while I help him out."

"I think Kurt would prefer your help. Besides, oatmeal is in my wheelhouse for cooking." Burt stopped him at the edge of the kitchen. "That list Officer O'Connell went through…"

Blaine met his eyes. "It's none of your business, Burt. As long as I don't hurt him, that is."

"I… Don't let Kurt hurt you, either, kid." Burt smiled a little tentatively. "Angel? Really?"

"It's how I see him."

"What does he call you?"

Blaine laughed. "He actually has a couple for me, but the one _you're_ most likely to hear is 'Rock star.'"

Burt's smile became a little more certain. "If he didn't tell you, for some reason he likes tea with oatmeal rather than coffee. I'll make some for him. Coffee for you?"

"That'd be great. Thanks, Burt."

***  
Kurt's cast had come off on Monday, but it took another three days for the dermatologist to determine that the scrapes on his face were gone. The stitches had come out even earlier, but she'd wanted to be certain he was completely healed before giving him the okay for shaving again.

Many people had been treated to his long, surprisingly eloquent rants about the itchiness of a beard in the summer time. The second he'd gotten the all-clear, Blaine packed Kurt into the car, drove to his barber in Westerville, and paid for two shaves.

They were in the middle of a fallow field, making out in the backseat of Blaine's Mini with the top down on the convertible. Blaine was privately promising himself many more instances of taking Kurt for a good professional shave because sensual pleasures made him extremely affectionate, if the way he kept rubbing their cheeks together between kisses and touches was any indication.

"Fuck me, tonight," Blaine said.

And for a moment, it seemed like there was no air.

Blaine broke the silence. "I know we haven't really talked about it since…"

"No, we haven't."

"I'm sorry it wasn't better for…"

Kurt stopped his mouth with a slow kiss. "You did exactly what I wanted, precisely what I asked for. It wasn't bad. I just discovered I like everything else better."

"I hurt you."

"No. I was a little sore the next day is all." Kurt took a deep breath. "Your… your loving me was not the reason I cried."

Blaine gave a sad smile remembering. Afterward, he'd taken the world's quickest shower and crawled in beside Kurt. All he'd done was take Kurt's hand, and Kurt had flung himself onto Blaine's chest weeping like a child until his breathing evened out in sleep. "I knew that. But you, I mean, you came, but it wasn't exactly strong."

"Maybe it was the muscle relaxants"

Blaine's only reaction was a raised eyebrow. "You came harder sucking me off later, which, by the way, was the hottest blow job in the history of the world."

"I knew that," Kurt echoed, preening a little. "If you really want me to fuck you, we can as soon as your back hits the sheets tonight."

"I meant here, now."

Kurt looked at the backseat of the Mini Metro. "I don't think we take advanced enough yoga. I mean, even with the top down, that does not seem comfortable."

Blaine laughed. "I want to do it outside the car. Put my hands on the car, and have you behind me. It's kind of something I've fantasized about, a warm summer night, my boyfriend rocking my world."

"Considering the size of this thing, it's your car that will be rocking. Seriously, though, _al fresco_ does it for you?"

"Not one of your fantasies?" Blaine asked.

"I had poison ivy once. There are certain parts of my body that should never know that hell."

Blaine leaned in and kissed him. "No poison ivy here. It's a beautiful night. Your foot's healed. And I love what your fingers do to me. Can you blame me for wanting more?"

Kurt nuzzled down his throat, causing Blaine to gasp. "Did you enjoy it? Fucking me?"

He barely brushed his lips over Kurt's. "Being inside you was the most intimate and beautiful moment, and I just wish it had been because you wanted it -- wanted me -- not because you needed not to have it taken away. I hate that I couldn't make it feel as perfect for you as it did for me."

"I felt," he searched a moment for the right word, "cherished."

"You are. You're also hot, and I want my hot boyfriend, right now."

Kurt laughed and got out of the car. "Lube? Condom? Wet Wipes?"

Blaine doubled over, he was laughing so hard at Kurt's practical list. He handed Kurt the first two items. "The Wet Wipes are in the glove compartment."

Kurt pulled him close and kissed him. "It _is_ a nice night," he said before pulling Blaine's t-shirt over his head. His breath caught in his throat. No matter how many times he saw Blaine shirtless or naked, Kurt was astounded at the beauty of the other boy's body -- the hair covering his chest, the defined abs, and the back broadened by the work he was doing. Blaine's body turned him on every single time he saw it. He leaned in for another kiss, brushing his lips down the column of his throat, and dragging them across Blaine's shoulders.

Blaine moaned and turned in his arms, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. "You'd better not be wearing an undershirt," he mumbled into Kurt's lips.

"Too hot today. Too hot around you." He glanced around to check that they couldn't be seen from the road. Blaine had apparently thought out his fantasy. They were as private as they could be on a night with a full moon in the middle of an open field.

Once Kurt's shirt was off -- and draped loosely in the car so it wouldn't wrinkle, thank you very much -- he began stroking Blaine's skin in long gentle swipes. He felt his lover relax and push into his hand like a puppy wanting to be petted. "Let's get your pants off."

Blaine rested his head on Kurt's shoulder and giggled. "Always so romantic."

"One of us has to think of the practicalities or we're going to tip over -- and possibly turn the car over, too."

"I thought you liked my car."

Kurt smiled as he unzipped Blaine's jeans. "I do. It's very you."

Blaine started to say something, but found himself distracted by soft lips mouthing up the length of his cock. One hand patted his ankle and he leaned on Kurt's shoulder as his sandal was removed and one leg of his jeans came off. After replacing the sandal, while still being very distracting with his mouth, Kurt did the same down his other leg, and Blaine found himself naked with shoes on.

Kurt was still kneeling. He said, "Turn around, and put your hands on the car."

Blaine looked at him and bent down for a sloppy kiss before complying. He could feel the moist summer air all over his skin and the scent of the field, the whir of the cicadas caressed his ear.

He felt a tongue swipe at his balls as he turned to brace himself on the car. Then Kurt nipped the tender skin of his inner thigh, and Blaine found himself opening his legs a little wider in reaction.

Kurt nuzzled between Blaine's legs licking at the groove between groin and thigh before flattening his tongue and drawing it back between Blaine's cheeks.

Blaine moaned and began to shake at the sensations where patches of his skin were cooling in the late summer breeze. He could feel Kurt's hands spread him a bit before a pointed tongue breached his hole. A few thrusts and Blaine was trying to push back to get more sensation.

Kurt slapped his ass lightly. "Hold still so I can prepare you properly."

"It just feels so good."

"You already knew you liked my fingers."

Blaine sighed in pleasure. "Just trust me, your tongue is even more intense." He yelped as Kurt's tongue pressed back in, a slick finger beside it. "Oh, God! That feels good."

Kurt pulled back. "All right, we have a project. Taste testing lube samples, because there has to be one that's better than this."

"Angel, you don't have to…"

"No, I don't. But the way you're moaning? I can live with a bad taste as long as I can taste you, too." He insinuated a second finger and said, "Just promise me you have gum or lifesavers or something in the car." He licked around his fingers and slipped his tongue in beside them.

"Do that again, and I will buy you every flavor of gum that exists on Earth."

Kurt giggled and crooked his fingers and he continued to lick and probe around them.

Blaine moaned, "More," and Kurt added a third lubed finger. He liked Blaine's gasp at the sensation.

"Please, Angel, I need you in me."

Kurt slid his fingers out slowly and plunged his tongue in deeply -- in spite of the taste of the lube -- as he fumbled with his zipper. He put a little lube on his cock before he slipped on the condom, and stood. He mouthed the knobs of Blaine's spine, sucking a little at the nape of his neck as he maneuvered the head of his cock past the tight ring of muscle.

Blaine's gasp sounded a little uncomfortable this time, but before Kurt could say anything, Blaine let out a deep sigh and everything eased.

Kurt pushed a little deeper, reveling in the tight heat surrounding his cock. It took all his self control to keep the movement even and gentle, but Blaine's sighs sounded like pleasure, and Kurt didn't want that to change.

A quick intake of breath on Blaine's part made him stop, but Blaine just said, "Right there."

Kurt slid back a fraction then gently pushed over that spot again, eliciting a giggle and a deep, "Yeah," from his boyfriend. He pressed in and Blaine relaxed around him until he was lodged all the way. Blaine arched his back so that his butt hit Kurt's thighs, and Kurt laughed and wrapped his arms around Blaine's chest, holding him close.

"Move, Angel. Please."

"All right," Kurt said. He kept his thrusts shallow at first, trying to make sure he found the spot Blaine liked so much. Once he was a little more confident, and once Blaine started really grinding back, he picked up his pace, mouthing sloppy kisses on Blaine's shoulders and jaw. One hand smoothed down Blaine's body, skirting the edge of his pubic hair, pushing his legs apart, and cupping Blaine's balls which elicited a high keening sound and Blaine's head lolling back on his shoulder. He turned his head to kiss Blaine's lips and pushed his hips deeper, groaning with his own pleasure as he thrust.

"Touch me, please, Kurt, just touch me"

"I love hearing you beg." Kurt licked up his neck and caught his earlobe in his teeth.

Blaine chuckled softly. "I'd kind of worked that out." He ground back for a moment the planted his hands back on the car. "Please, Angel, I'm so close."

Kurt held his hand up to Blaine's mouth, and Blaine licked it wet. Kurt wrapped it around Blaine's cock and thrust hard, rocking him through the tight grip. He could hear Blaine start to swear and pant as his orgasm built. One more push into the heat of Blaine's body and Kurt could feel his own build. He bit Blaine's shoulder hard and angled himself against his prostate with short, fast jabs.

Blaine came hard and hot over Kurt's hand. Kurt's body wracked as his pleasure overtook him.

A few moments later, Kurt eased himself out of Blaine, turning his lover in his arms and helping him sit on the car's bumper while Kurt dug out the Wet Wipes. He knelt in front of Blaine, cleaning him gently.

"Look at me, Angel." Kurt glanced up to see leafy hazel eyes gazing at him with love. "I think I passed out for a minute. That was…"

"We need to try it the other way again. Now that the drugs are out of my body. Just to see."

"Okay. But, I'll tell you right now, it won't be tonight. Tonight we're going back to your bedroom and you're fucking me again."

Kurt kissed him on the nose. "No."

"I don't care how much I have to beg, but we're doing that again."

"No. Not tonight. Anything else you want. Hell, tell me to get down on my knees and blow you in front of my dad, and I'll probably do it." He brushed the damp curls back from Blaine's forehead. "But you're going to be sore in the morning. When we know better how sore it makes you, we can work out whether you can take me twice in one night."

"Or maybe try some toys." Blaine looked like a puppy who wanted his tummy rubbed.

Kurt laughed softly. "How did I end up with a kinky boyfriend?" He shivered a little in the summer breeze.

"You love a little kink."

Kurt pulled him into a sweaty embrace and kissed him deeply. "I love _you_. The kinks are just a nice little cherry on top."

Blaine started to laugh and rested his head on Kurt's shoulder. "I'm pretty sure there are no cherries left."

***  
The phone rang, and Burt was surprised to hear the guidance counselor from Dalton on the other end of the line.

"You know Kurt's at McKinley now?

"Yes, Mr. Hummel, I do. There's a trip at the end of September to Washington, DC, and we're still one person short. Mister Lloyd thought it might be something that appealed to Kurt, and Blaine concurred."

"Kurt likes history, and I'm certain he'd like to see another big city."

"While we will have other trips to [The White House](http://www.whitehouse.gov/about/tours-and-events), [the Capitol](http://www.aoc.gov/), and various museums, the main focus of the trip is architecture and engineering. We'll be visiting the [solar decathlon](http://www.solardecathlon.gov/)."

"Kurt's magazine subscriptions include Architectural Digest now. When is it?"

Caldwell sighed. "The twenty-fourth of September through October second."

"If Kurt's interested, I'll talk to his teachers about extra credit work." Burt frowned into the phone. "When do you need to know?"

"By Saturday, if possible," Caldwell said. "I'll also make certain he has a roommate other than Blaine."

"Did Blaine's parents ask for that?"

"No, Blaine's over eighteen, so he just needed to pay for his trip.”

“Do you know about what happened to Kurt this summer?”

There was a pause before Caldwell said, “No. I don’t believe I do.”

Burt gave him a very quick précis and concluded, “They sleep together here. I have no objection to them sleeping together in Washington. I mean, obviously, if there’s going to be more than two people to a room, it would be a bad idea...”

“No. It’s two to a room,” Caldwell answered automatically. “I had no idea that Kurt had been through something like that. I’ll talk to Blaine and my colleagues about it, with your permission.”

“Blaine? Sure. Your colleagues? Only if Blaine says it’s okay.”

Caldwell said, “Fair enough, Mister Hummel.”

“In the meantime, I’ll talk to Kurt. I know there isn’t a football game that weekend, so he’ll probably be free to go. I’ll let you know by Friday, Mister Caldwell.”

“I appreciate it. Goodbye.”

"‘Bye.” Burt thought for a moment, then called Carole. “Hey, sweetheart, want to go to Breadstix tonight? I figured we could talk without the kids around...”

***  
Before asking Kurt whether he wanted to go, Carole and Burt talked to Finn.

“So Kurt’s been invited to go someplace by Dalton. That’s great.”

Carole smiled at him. “It will probably mean a slightly tighter belt at Christmas, and we didn’t want you to think that we’re doing something for him and not for you.”

Finn nodded. “You are doing something for him. You’ll do something for me sometime if I need it.” He thought for a moment. “Kurt and I talked while he was at Dalton -- about money and stuff. I know he’s trying really hard for college scholarships, so that I don’t have to worry about how I’m going to do it. So if this might help him get a full ride in college, it kind of helps me, too.”

Burt and Carole looked at each other. They hadn’t realized their sons were discussing these things.

Burt said, “Is there something special you might want for graduation maybe? Since Christmas might be a little light and all.”

“If I get into college, I’ll need a new computer,” Finn said.

Carole smiled at her son. “Then we’ll talk about that when the time comes.”


	3. Washington, D.C.

The four chaperones had addressed the students several times on the bus and at two different airports reminding them of the rules while they were on the trip to DC.

Once they were at the hotel, the Crawford girls were given rooms on the third floor and the Dalton boys had their rooms on the seventh floor. Mr. and Mrs. Gresham were down on the floor with the Crawford students and Mr. Caldwell and Mr. Lloyd were sharing a room on the Dalton floor.

The students had been asked to wear their uniforms while travelling, but now they were allowed to change into casual clothes for the rest of the day. The group was due to meet in the lobby at three-thirty. At five past three, a knock came on the door to Blaine and Kurt's room. The two chaperones were standing outside.

"Blaine, Kurt," Mister Caldwell sounded tentative. "We were wondering…"

Mister Lloyd rolled his eyes. "I understand from my colleague that you two have permission from your parents to share a room together even though you are in an intimate relationship."

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other.

Kurt said, "My father is aware of Blaine's and my relationship and suggested we room together."

Blaine said, "My parents have formally disowned me. They're no longer part of my considerations."

"Close enough," Mister Lloyd said.

Mister Caldwell sighed. "The hotel misunderstood. Since the Greshams requested a king-sized bed to share, I guess they supposed that Mister Lloyd and I wanted the same accommodation. We would take it as a kindness if we could switch rooms with you two."

"Since doubtless one of your beds would be left unslept anyway," said Mister Lloyd.

Caldwell looked sharply at his colleague. "And by being in the middle of the row, we would have a better chance of blocking poor behavior."

Blaine shrugged. "We hadn't unpacked yet."

"Sure," Kurt said.

"Thank you, gentlemen." The two men hurried down the hallway to get their bags, and Kurt and Blaine picked up theirs and followed.

***  
Twenty minutes later, Blaine was in the lobby with most of the other students. Mrs. Gresham, three of the Crawford girls and Kurt hadn't arrived yet, and two Crawford students were trying to flirt with Blaine.

He'd told them he didn't play for their team. After about five minutes, he'd mentioned his boyfriend -- his very serious boyfriend -- but the two girls seemed oblivious. When the elevator doors opened and Kurt appeared, he felt like he was seeing water in a desert.

Kurt crossed the lobby, walking between the two girls. He’d overheard the last remark they'd made about Blaine "converting" and smiled. “The Weather Channel said the temperature would drop quickly once it got dark.” He handed Blaine his leather jacket and pecked him on the lips.

Blaine put a hand on his neck and pulled Kurt closer for a better kiss. He kept it closed mouthed and brief, but it was soft and sweet -- a lover’s kiss, not a familial one.

“May I remind you of the PDA rules, Mister Anderson?” Mister Lloyd’s voice was acerbic.

“Is this the new Dalton uniform, sir?”

Mister Lloyd took in the brown cords and green sweater Blaine was wearing and swallowed. “It’s still inappropriate.”

Blaine’s eyes snapped to meet the chaperone’s. “Then Jack and Magda should have been called out ten minutes ago. Steve and Stephanie have not exactly been decorous either.”

Mister Caldwell stepped forward and put a hand on his colleague’s shoulder. “Blaine has kept to his agreement with me to abide by the rules in the handbook. As long as he and Kurt aren’t arrested, and I can’t see a simple kiss getting anyone arrested, they aren’t in violation of the PDA rules for students _out_ of uniform.”

Blaine turned to Kurt. "I don't know whether you met Mary and Kathleen earlier."

"No, I didn't." He held out his hand smiling politely at the two of them. He noticed their manners kicked in automatically, and they returned his smile and shook his hand.

[Ella's Pizza](http://www.ellaspizza.com/) showed them to an area in the back that had been roped off for them. Once everyone had decided what to order, the chaperones distributed the week's schedules to everyone. In addition to stating the activity and the approximate times, the schedule included whether or not they were expected to wear their uniforms.

Mister Caldwell called them to order after their appetizers were served.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, as you can see we'll begin tomorrow with a double deck bus tour of the city which will deliver us to [National Cathedral](http://www.nationalcathedral.org/) in time for the eight forty-five a.m. service. Mister Hummel and Miss Berman are excused from attending and can either explore the grounds together or wait in the observation area upstairs." He noted a raised hand. "Yes, Mister Jameson?"

"Why do they get to ditch service?"

"Their parents requested it." Caldwell's voice was acerbic. "To return to your schedules. Please note that your free evenings are Tuesday and Friday and your free afternoons, unless you've signed up for Wednesday’s side trip to Philadelphia, are Wednesday and Friday. You will be expected to check-in back at the hotel no later than ten p.m. on Tuesday and no later than eleven on Friday unless you speak to the chaperones in advance. There is no uniform requirement on Saturday, but we will be attending the Solar Decathlon for the second time. You have each been assigned a chaperone to whom you report and a work group for the decathlon project. In neither case should your roommate have the same assignment. Does anyone have that problem?"

There were side glances and quick whispers before the consensus decided "no."

Once the plates were cleared and the pizzas started coming out, the conversation became more general. Kurt had a slice of mushroom pizza and a slice of roast artichoke and caper pizza before seeking out Mister Caldwell.

"Yes, Kurt?"

"Two things. I'm taking Blaine out to dinner on Tuesday night. Our reservations are for seven and it's within walking distance of the hotel, so I expect we'll be back by lock down, er, curfew."

"And the other?"

"The schedule is great. We'll see a lot, but on the three afternoons where we break into smaller groups for museums, the choices are exactly the same. I was wondering why the [Freer/Sackler/](http://www.asia.si.edu/) [African Art](http://africa.si.edu/) complex wasn’t a choice one day or the [Hirschhorn museum](http://hirshhorn.si.edu/)?"

Caldwell nodded. "I'll talk to the other chaperones and maybe the Freer complex will be switched out for another museum. Frankly, if you really want to go to the Hirschhorn, you'll probably need to use one of your free afternoons for it. None of us cares much for the period of art it covers."

"Thank you, sir."

A few minutes later, Blaine approached Mister Lloyd who had been assigned as his designated chaperone.

"Sir?"

"Mister Anderson."

"Kurt and I have tickets to [Lucia di Lammermoor](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lucia_di_Lammermoor) at the Kennedy Center on Friday. It's a long opera. I planned for us to grab a taxi back to the hotel, but the line for a cab may take awhile, so I wanted to give you a heads up that we might be slightly past curfew."

Mister Lloyd looked at him thoughtfully. "I'll make a note of it, but call as soon as you hit the line and give me an estimated time of arrival."

Blaine started to walk away and then came back. "A question, sir. Do you dislike Kurt?"

"Are you referring to the PDA reprimand earlier?"

"Yes, sir."

Lloyd smiled. "No. Kurt got better grades in my class than you ever did. He has a good mind. It's interesting that you didn't question whether or not I like you."

Blaine blinked. "I just assumed, perhaps incorrectly, that you wouldn't be the on-call chaperone for someone you disliked."

"Well, you're right that the chaperone assignments aren't random. And, for the record, I don't dislike you -- or your relationship -- either. You were right about Magda and Jack. I should have said something to them publicly or handled my reprimand of you and Kurt privately."

"Thank you, sir." He turned to leave.

Mister Lloyd’s voice made him turn back. "Blaine, _my_ Kurt died of his injuries after an assault when we were in college. Not that Mickey was as pretty as Kurt, and I certainly didn't have your good looks. Maybe I envy you a little, but I'm glad it's easier, now."

He looked at his history teacher. "I'd never guessed."

"It's not something teachers share with pupils, generally, but I felt I owed you an explanation."

"You didn't, but I appreciate it, sir. And I'm sorry you lost Mickey."

***

The thrill of waking up next to Kurt in a king-sized bed wasn't really about slow kisses and early morning hand jobs -- though Blaine couldn’t deny those were a great way to wake up. It was little things like the easy domesticity of stretching out on the bed and watching Kurt begin his yoga routine. He leaned over and gave Kurt's shoulder a quick kiss as he wandered to the bathroom.

Kurt was brushing his teeth as Blaine got out of the shower. Twenty minutes later, they were both tying their ties, and Blaine stopped Kurt as he reached for his blazer and pulled him into a tight hug. "Once the blazer's on, no displaying affection."

Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's shoulders. "I know."

"You know how I think you're perfect? I found a flaw."

Kurt kissed his forehead. "Is it something I can remedy?"

"You're only seventeen. I'd ditch our tour of the Capitol tomorrow and walk to city hall to get in line for a marriage license if we were both eighteen."

They kissed fiercely.

As they put on their blazers, Kurt said, "I think we're forever, too."

***  
In the lobby, there were pots of coffee and plates of scones for the Dalton students. A double decker tour bus with an open top pulled up about fifteen minutes after Kurt and Blaine got downstairs and they bolted their breakfasts. Kurt grabbed a couple of extra scones and put them in his bag as emergency rations.

They snagged seats up top and listened as the tour guide began telling them about the sites they were passing. When they got to National Cathedral, Mrs. Gresham called Kurt to the front and introduced him to Sabra Berman. They were to meet everyone in the Cathedral shop at 10:00. In the meantime, they were required to stick together and not disturb the worship.

Since Luke had taken Kurt aside and asked if he could find out whether Sabra had a boyfriend, Kurt felt less put out by the whole thing than he might have.

"Do you mind if we walk outside? I want to take pictures of the details and I don't think we'll have a chance to later," Kurt said.

"You don't look Jewish…" Sabra began.

"Atheist. It doesn't mean this isn't a beautiful building, though."

"No, it doesn't. Shall we just walk randomly or do you have a route in mind."

"Random is fine." Kurt checked his watch. "Let me know if you get chilled."

They chatted back and forth, stopping to make notes or to let Kurt take pictures or sketch a detail. They were in the same work group, but since they'd only gotten their literature packet last night, they didn't discuss the project too much. They discovered a mutual interest in early 18th century architecture that kept the conversation going until it was time to head back to their meeting point.

When they got back on their tour bus to explore the city for the rest of the day, Kurt guided Luke into the seat just ahead of him.

"Sabra likes boys, so you at least have that. She's not interested in the movie that her roommate and a couple of friends were planning to hit on Tuesday night, so that would be the perfect time to ask her out. She likes exotic food."

"Is there someplace exotic near the hotel? I don't know Washington at all." Luke sounded mildly panicked.

Kurt said, "Blaine, go sit somewhere else for awhile."

"I don't need to be surprised, you know."

Kurt smiled. "I just don't want you to know my methods."

Blaine squeezed his hand and went over to Thad and Jeremy at the next stoplight. Luke slipped into the spot next to Kurt.

"I made reservations at two restaurants not far from the hotel for Tuesday night. I was going to wait until tomorrow to decide which one to cancel, but you are obviously in need of help. You take the reservation at [Ten Penh](http://www.tenpenh.com/about.htm) \-- it's a Cambodian-slash-Asian fusion restaurant. I'll keep the one at [Central](http://www.centralmichelrichard.com/). The restaurants are on the same block, so we can walk from the hotel together. After that you're on your own."

Luke gazed at him adoringly. "I'll ask her at the next monument. Thank you." His eyes clouded over for a moment. "Could you help me pick out something to wear on the date?"

"Ask her first. If she says 'yes,' then I will spend an hour tonight going through your wardrobe."

"Not Tuesday?"

Kurt looked at him. "Dalton has taught me that you'll need to iron, polish, and, possibly, send items for emergency dry cleaning. Sooner is better."

"Tonight, then. If she'll go out with me."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Well, she seems to have a sense of humor…"

***  
Monday was the Capitol, including a meeting with their representative and Senator Brown. They went to the [National Building Museum](http://www.nbm.org/) around three to see the exhibits, and returned to it in the evening for a series of presentations about the Solar Decathlon after dinner in Chinatown.

Tuesday morning, they went on a tour of the White House and had lunch in their groups to decide how to proceed with their projects.

Kurt’s team decided to go with a statistical analysis as their project. Wandering through the twenty houses on the banks of the Potomac had given Kurt some ideas. Everyone else in his group was concentrating on the energy usage, which made sense as that was a large part of the judging for the competition.

Kurt said, “What about the interiors?”

Sabra turned to him and said, “Well, of course their insulation makes a great difference to the overall energy usage.”

“No, I’m sorry. I meant the actual appeal of the interiors -- how they look.”

Brad, a senior who was captaining the team, said, “Interior decoration?”

Kurt shook his head. “I guess I’m trying to define it for myself. Of those twenty houses, there were only four that I would feel comfortable living in and all but one of those has something about it that I would like to change to make the space feel … livable.”

Brad said, “But that’s not important, not for the competition.”

“I get that, but my point is, maybe it should be. The point of the competition is to present a lower carbon footprint way of living to the general public. Some of these houses may end up being manufactured as emergency housing -- like after last summer's tornados. They start with over two hundred entries -- narrow it down to, what, fifty? and then from there a panel picks the top twenty to actually be built. I listened to the discussions people were having. Some people thought the exteriors -- especially U of Hawaii's entry -- looked really cool, but almost no one said, ‘Wow, I can imagine living here.’ The public isn’t going to accept these kinds of prefab houses if they aren’t inviting... livable, if you will.”

“Surely the financial aspects, how inexpensive they are, how well they use the land, how little they cost to maintain are the things that sell them to the public,” Sabra said.

“Those are all important. And if it's all you've got due to a natural disaster, then I don't think people will complain. But if two places are equal in other ways, and one costs less, then only an idiot would take the more expensive option. I guess my argument is,” Kurt took a breath before continuing, “My argument is as long as the houses don’t feel like homes, they’re never going to be on that equal footing where the financial practicalities could be a deciding factor.”

Thad looked up from his notebook. “Kurt has a point. Most of the ideas for energy efficiency have been around for years -- decades even. There are ways for the existing houses in the contest to maybe have maximized their efficiencies better. The house from Appalachian State University could have been better oriented to block excessive sunlight so they wouldn’t have to run the air conditioning as much. I think it will count against them. But the fact is, the overall design of the place gives it at least two dead spaces inside. As small as the buildings have to be, spaces that are practically unusable mean those designs aren’t going to be a good choice for a couple or small family.”

Brad, Sabra, and James all looked at each other. Finally, Brad said, "Are you suggesting, Kurt, that we concentrate on how the inner features affect the finished design?"

Kurt said, "And how that in turn effects the perceptions of potential residents."

The other four nodded.

Thad turned to a fresh page in his notebook. "Let's start by designing a survey. Half of us return to the decathlon site on Wednesday afternoon, half on Friday afternoon, and all of us will be there on Saturday. We can approach as many different people as possible that way."

Brad picked up the idea. "All ages. As many different regions of the country as possible."

Sabra had her laptop out. "According to the top three results of my Google search, we want to keep the survey to six questions or less, plus basic demographic information. And one of the questions is some sort of 'tell us more.'"

Thad poised his pen and said, "All right. What are the other questions, and what demographics information do we need?"

***  
On Tuesday evening, after Kurt and Blaine spent the afternoon at the National Gallery, the two of them, plus Luke and Sabra, walked down 9th Street to Pennsylvania Avenue. Blaine and Kurt dropped Luke and Sabra off at _Ten Penh_ and walked to the corner of 11th Street for their restaurant.

 _Central_ was what Kurt had imagined big city restaurants to be. It wasn't as formal as some, but there was a nice ambiance and the place was bustling. There were some diners who were there on dates and even more who looked like they were holding business dinners, so, other than their ages, he and Blaine blended in well.

They ordered water for the table and perused the menu. When the waiter came back, he described the specials and then left them with bread.

Blaine glanced up. "I'm not sure how you found this place, but it's perfect. Thank you."

"Internet reservation sites are very helpful. What sounds good to you?" Blaine seemed hesitant, so Kurt continued, "Seriously, anything you want."

"The lamb special sounded great, but I know you don't eat a lot of red meat and it's for two, so…"

"Breathe. I like lamb and anything that comes with nine different vegetables is worth trying. Just promise me that we'll share any dessert we have."

"And go for a walk after dinner." Blaine grinned. "The frisee and walnut salad sounds good to start, should we share that, too?"

***  
After dinner they'd walked toward the Capitol building before turning at [Union Station](http://www.unionstationdc.com/) and trying to find their way back to the hotel. A woman in a bright blue raincoat came up to them as they stood looking around blankly on a corner that said G Street and New Jersey Avenue.

"May I help you?"

Blaine smiled. "Our hotel's at ninth and F Street, but F Street dead ended and now we're here."

"Go down to E Street," she said, pointing the right way. "Hang a right and turn right at ninth. 395 messes up the streets a bit around here."

"Thank you," Kurt said. "We looked for a cab…"

"No problem." She waved and wandered in the direction she'd pointed. "Just for the record, I'm not following you. I live in Southwest."

They walked beside her making small talk until she pointed them at E street.

Kurt took Blaine's hand as they walked in the right direction. "Do you get the feeling she has to do that a lot?"

Blaine grinned. "It's a tourist city -- and we're tourists."

***  
They checked in with the chaperones with half an hour left before curfew and headed straight to the room. Blaine pressed Kurt against the door in a ferocious kiss as soon as the door was closed.

"Anything you want, Lover."

Blaine brushed his lips over Kurt's ear. "Are you sure you didn't have anything planned?"

"I was going to ask if you wanted to go swimming before the pool closed, but I like this exercise better."

"Take your clothes off, find the lube, and sit against the headboard."

"Whatever you want." Kurt stripped quickly, hanging his clothes as he went. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom, plus condoms and lube from his accessories bag, and found the bed turned down with Blaine waiting for him. He sat back against the headboard and held out his hand. "What _do_ you want?"

"Bareback. I know there are other reasons to use condoms, but I…"

"What else?"

"Just that. You inside me, nothing between us."

Kurt put the condom he'd brought on the nightstand. "All right. I've been curious, too. Now, get over here." He opened his legs so Blaine could sit between them. He kissed his lover gently, increasing the heat slowly as their hands wandered over each other's bodies. "Turn over," he whispered.

"What?"

"I want to prepare you."

"Oh." Blaine grinned a little stupidly. "Of course." He turned toward Kurt's feet, leaning forward on his elbows.

Kurt took in the sight of his boyfriend, ass in the air waiting to be prepped and bit his lip. He leaned forward and licked Blaine's sac, weighing it on his tongue, before swirling back to the waiting hole. He pointed his tongue to flick and begin to probe and reveled in the gasp he heard. A little lube on one finger and he wriggled it in beside his tongue, using both to spread the wetness. A low moan from Blaine made him stop. He scraped his teeth gently on one ass cheek and used his free hand to stroke Blaine's hip.

Once again his tongue, this time with two fingers beside it, breached Blaine. He pushed more lube and saliva into his lover, nuzzling, stroking, sliding a third finger in as he found the spot that made Blaine shudder and groan.

"Please, Angel, I'm ready. It feels so good."

"Do you want me behind you like this?" Kurt began to move his legs so he could kneel up.

"No. Let me…"

Kurt settled back and Blaine turned round to face him.

"Like this," Blaine said. He held Kurt's cock in his hand and coated it with lube, angling it so he could sink down onto it. The first try didn't work.

"Let me guide, you figure out where you need to be." Kurt grinned and kissed Blaine's chest. This time they managed to get the head of Kurt's cock past the first tight ring of muscle. Once again, Kurt's hands began to rove, making long strokes down Blaine's side and thighs, soothing him with touch. He felt Blaine adjust himself a little and relax, so he could envelop Kurt's erection. "Blaine," he moaned, "You feel incredible like this."

There was a low sound in Blaine's chest. "I do feel incredible." He slid down farther and after a little adjustment from them both, wrapped his legs around Kurt. "Can you move with me like this?"

Kurt rocked his hips evoking another moan from Blaine. "I can't move much more than that."

He gasped, "That's the perfect spot." Blaine experimented with raising himself up and down a little in counterpoint and leaned in for a sloppy kiss, as they found their rhythm.

They rocked together slowly, sharing long wet kisses and whispering little words of love to each other. They built their passion from touches -- Kurt's hand cradling the back of Blaine's head when he threw it back, Blaine stroking the cleft at the top of Kurt's ass and drawing patterns in the sweat.

A fierce possessive growl rumbled from deep inside Kurt. He pulled Blaine close, shoved up hard and came.

Blaine gasped in surprise to feel the wetness deep inside him. He leaned back against Kurt's thighs, and felt Kurt's knuckles brush up his cock before his hand closed around him and tugged. His semen painted Kurt's chin and chest, and the second spurt splattered his belly.

Kurt pulled him down gently and rolled them onto their sides so he could pull out without hurting Blaine. He checked to make certain nothing had torn, and was amazed at the thrill that went through him when he saw his come glistening in Blaine's body.

He went to the bathroom and ran them a warm bath.

Blaine entered a few minutes later and licked his come off Kurt's jaw. "Do you want front or back?"

Kurt dropped a kiss on his shoulder. "Back. I want to wash your hair, if that's all right."

Blaine smiled and got into the bath leaving room behind him for Kurt. "After one of your scalp massages, I'll sleep very well tonight."

"After mind-blowing sex, I tend to sleep well anyway."

***  
Kurt had volunteered for the first two hour shift on the Wednesday. That left him and Blaine two hours to hit The Hirschhorn Museum before meeting the group for Wednesday's dinner, and gave them the whole of Friday afternoon free.

Blaine talked to people on the participating teams about their solar profile and what other environmentally friendly energy sources they were using while Kurt distributed the short survey his team had finally completed as widely as he could. His team had elected to use a mixture of handouts that could be returned and engaging people in conversation. He spoke to several small children about which house they liked best and interviewed their parents at the same time. It also allowed him to get people from other countries who might not read English as well as they spoke it.

When he saw Sabra and Luke wander up to take over he smiled and went to collect Blaine.

The Hirschhorn had a couple of interesting pieces in the permanent collection, and the exhibit on ColorForms that they saw was thought provoking. Before they went back to the hotel, Blaine insisted that they ride the [merry-go-round](http://nationalcarousel.org/psp/NationalMall/). Kurt acted like he was embarrassed (he’d picked a zebra, and Blaine rode the white charger next to him), but he was smiling broadly while they walked to their hotel, hand in hand.

On some level, they both realized it was different -- that they could hold hands without worry. Kurt led them through the sculpture garden, and Blaine asked, "What do you want to see on Friday? There are a couple of museums that aren't on the Mall, or we could go to a movie or see the [Pentagon](http://pentagon.osd.mil/) or…"

"Come back to the hotel and take a nap?" Kurt grinned at him.

"If that's what you want, but I thought you wanted to see everything."

"I do. Not the Pentagon. Unless -- is it architecturally important enough that you feel we need to see it?"

"No. It's huge. For years it was the largest office building in the world, and it's only five stories tall, but other than that, I'm pretty sure it's just an office building." Blaine looked puzzled.

Kurt said, "Virginia has the most repressive DOMA in the country, and I don't want to give them any sales tax. Is that selfish?" Blaine shook his head, and Kurt continued, "I thought, maybe you could pick between the [Phillips Collection](http://www.phillipscollection.org/homepage.aspx) and the [Corcoran](http://www.corcoran.org/)? I can't decide. And you still haven't told me what we're doing on Friday night."

Blaine said, "What about the [Octagon House](http://www.nps.gov/nr/travel/wash/dc22.htm)?” He caught Kurt’s expression and smiled. “We have to be at the [Kennedy Center](http://www.kennedy-center.org/about/virtual_tour/) by seven-thirty, although if we're there by six we can have dinner in their cafeteria before the performance."

"The Kennedy Center. And our half day starts at noon?"

"Or earlier. The only thing on our itinerary after breakfast is the [National Archives](http://www.archives.gov/). It just depends on where we are in the line."

Kurt thought for a moment. "Then let's start at the Octagon House and walk to the Corcoran or the Renwick afterward. If we get back to the hotel by five, it shouldn't take us long to change into our suits for the evening and get to the Kennedy Center on time for dinner."

"Are you glad you came? I know it's not New York."

"No, it isn't. But I've seen things I couldn't really imagine here, too. Some of it's history. Some of it's art. Some of it is a city of contrasts."

"Not to mention the world's strangest intersections," Blaine added.

"And, yes, the world's strangest intersections."

***  
Kurt grinned when he saw his dad waiting for him when he got off the bus at Dalton.

Burt hugged him and said, "I hope you don't mind, but I told Carole and Finn that I wanted time with you."

"That's fine, Dad." He slung his bag into the back of the truck.

Blaine came over and shook Burt's hand. "It was a great trip. Thank you for letting Kurt join us."

"I'll tell you, Finn was upset to find out that Kurt apparently got all his McKinley homework in on time while he was in Washington."

"Yeah, he spent a lot of time in the business center at the hotel," Blaine said. He walked over to Kurt, and they kissed chastely.

Kurt said, "See you Friday."

"See you then, Angel."

Burt opened his car door, and Kurt climbed in as soon as he heard the lock click, his eyes still on Blaine.

Once they'd gone a few miles, Burt asked, "So what did you like most?"

"Friday night, we had a free evening and Blaine took me to see _Lucia di Lammermoor_ at the Kennedy Center Opera House. It was stunning, and the President and Mrs. Obama were there. Apparently, it wasn't a scheduled state event or anything. They just wanted to support the Washington Opera."

"You got to see the President? That's great. What about the field trips and stuff?"

"The tour of the White House was a little disappointing. I mean, the public rooms looked good, formal -- which I guess it has to be -- and we didn't get to see the offices as much. The Capitol, though, that was great. Blaine and I played with the whispering area of the dome too much, but it's a cool effect and hearing him describe the physics behind it from across the room was amazing. I could have spent all my time at the National Gallery. The National Building Museum doesn't have a lot, but the building itself is terrific and the presentations about the solar decathlon were really important to our projects. Oh, and we got to meet Senator Brown."

"It sounds like it was a good trip."

"It was.” Kurt sighed happily. “Dad, can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure, kid."

"You and Mom dated in high school, right?"

"Yeah, she transferred in as a sophomore, and I got up enough nerve to ask her to the junior prom. But we got to know each other before that. Prom was kind of a strange first date."

"When did you start talking about marriage?" Kurt asked.

Burt's hands stilled on the steering wheel, then he said, "Toward the end of my senior year. Our senior year. Your Mom took her junior and senior years together. We actually broke up for awhile when she went off to college, but we got back together by the end of her freshman year and we lived on the married dorms during her junior and senior years. I was just going for an AA at the community college down the street, but we qualified."

Burt thought about the implications of the question. "I take it you and Blaine have discussed it?"

"If I'd been eighteen, we could have gotten married there. It wouldn't have meant anything, other than to us, here in Ohio, but we were free to think about it in a way we aren't here."

"Do you want my opinion or are you just trying to gauge my reaction?"

Kurt said, "I want your opinion. And, I'm sorry that I forced your hand last summer, about sleeping with Blaine."

"He's still treating you okay, right? Did something else happen to bring that up? Because I'm pretty sure you two didn't just play Parcheesi alone in a hotel room in Washington -- especially not if you're talking about marriage." Burt gave him a side-eyed glance and was surprised to see a faint smile.

"I'm not sorry that I'm sleeping with Blaine. I'm sorry that I was confrontational and didn't give you a chance to discuss things with Carole, especially the impact on Finn."

Burt nodded. "The last thing I would have wanted at your age was my parents knowing I had a sex life, much less where or what we were doing. Those questions from the cop… I don't know if I could have answered them in front of my old man. So, yeah, I pretty much assume neither of you is any kind of virgin any more. And, thanks to those pamphlets, I know for a fact what's going down in your room. But you and Blaine seem to have some pretty deep ties that aren't just about all the physical stuff. It's just tough sometimes to think that my little boy who liked tea parties and riding his bike has a …" his lips started to form the "b" on boyfriend, but instead he said, "That you have a lover."

They drove a little farther. "You do love him?"

"Dad, sometimes it physically hurts to love him so much. All the clichés about first thought in the morning, last thought at night -- they're true. I expected to feel protective, because that's how _you_ are about loving people, and protected because you've always made me feel safe, but the connection, how much it means to love and be loved -- and I don't mean the sex -- it's … spiritual." Kurt sniffed, "I hate sounding like a pop song."

Burt laughed. "Y'know how I can tell it's love? You still sound like you. Infatuation, well, it can feel the same at first, but you find yourself parroting the other person or adapting yourself to them, and, yeah, you do it with love too. But, I'm pretty sure if you'd never met Blaine, you'd still have gone to see an opera on your own at some point. It might not have been that opera, but you'd have tried it because you love art and music."

Kurt smiled to himself. "So what you're saying is that I can tell Blaine I hate something and not fear that he'll break up with me?"

"Yeah." Burt smiled too. "You get it." He took a deep breath. "So if you're talking about marriage, I gotta assume you're talking about a future, too."

"Not much beyond college. Blaine wants to be an engineer or architect -- there's a lot of overlap on big projects. And, the solar decathlon… I predicted which of the houses would win the vote of the people who visited. Blaine got the power usage statistics right, and predicted the competition winner, but no one else -- well, Sabra, one of the Crawford girls, had my top pick as a tie with another pick -- no one selected the one people would like to live in best besides me."

"You want to stop for food? There's a diner ahead."

"Yeah."

They went in and got a booth. Kurt got a shrimp salad and a side of hash browns, and Burt ordered a waffle.

"So explain to me what picking the right house for the competition and talking about your future have to do with each other."

"I like performing, but I don't think I want to be an actor or a singer. Not as my primary job. And while I like working on cars…"

Burt interrupted, "Owning a garage was my dream, not yours. It's a good one and I've made a good life with it, but I want you to have the life you want."

"I know, Dad. The thing is, the Dalton guys _know_ and they work toward it. Fashion is great, but it's not right either. But this one house at the decathlon, it was pleasant. That sounds so little, but these houses are engineered for ease of manufacture and maximum energy efficiency. There's also a limit on size to them, but that's mostly for the competition and, really, Americans live in larger dwellings than most people need. The other houses, and some of them were really cool, like the one from Hawai'i that was curved, were all a little awkward on some level. Some felt constricted. Some had no privacy available, or odd angles to the walls or shapes to the room. I thought of architecture as the exteriors, but there's a whole section of it that's interior design -- not decorating, though that can be part of it -- but designing the space so that people feel content being in it."

Burt looked at his son in wonder. "Sounds like it made a real impression on you. It still doesn't tell me whether you and Blaine are talking about the future. Or does it?"

"We've talked about college before, and Blaine's going to try for early acceptance to Cornell. If he gets it, then he'll be in New York next year while I'm finishing high school. His grandfather left him a trust that will pay for it, but only Cornell. If they don't take him, then he needs to look at other resources. One thing he's thinking about is working construction for a full year and banking as much of the money as he can to pay for school and applying for scholarships and work-study programs."

"I thought Blaine was pretty well-heeled," Burt said.

"His family disowned him last month when he turned eighteen. His Aunt Kent gave him the trip to Washington as an early Christmas present because she knew about his passion for architecture, and she negotiated with his parents for his last year at Dalton. He's not poor. There are trust funds that the family couldn't break, but the first one doesn't kick in until he's twenty-one."

"You know about his financial situation. You've discussed how to handle college fees. You've talked about marriage. Yeah, that's a future." He took a sip of his coffee. "So, now, my opinion. Don't marry before you start college. Make plans for a future together, but let the possibilities play out. Did he date anyone before you?"

Kurt said, "He's never been anyone else's boyfriend, but he wasn't quite as inexperienced as me when we started dating."

"Some guy at a party?"

Kurt did a double take. "Yeah, it was just… never mind, he was a virgin for most of it, that's all you need to know."

"That's _more_ than I needed to know, but it does kind of prove the point I was trying to make. You're both inexperienced. I don't doubt you're in love -- and I'm not saying you should date other people -- but I do think you should use your first year or two at college to explore the world. That's what they have all those requirements in strange subjects for, so that you'll be exposed to a wide range of things. If you're married before you go in, I'm not sure you'll be as open as you need to be."

Kurt nodded. "And if we're talking architecture, we're talking advanced degrees for both of us. There aren't many places that even offer interior design through their colleges of architecture -- well, not as a degree."

"And grad schools generally have living space for married couples -- if you're in a place that will recognize your marriage." Burt patted his son's hand. "If you get married before college, I'll support your decision even if I disagree with it. You're men -- both of you seem to be good men. But as a father, I worry because you're still _young_ as men, and I think you need to have more life so you'll know what you're committing to."

"I don't think either of us considered getting married before college -- not really," Kurt said. "But I wanted you to know that we're talking about forever."

It was Burt's turn to nod. "Now about the short term… Coach Bieste came by. She changed her mind about the lineup and wants you as a kicker on the football team. Since you need something for that scholarship you've been talking about..."

"I do. I know Coach Sylvester wants me back on the Cheerios, but I don't think I can take her craziness. I'll talk to Coach Bieste on Monday. What about my time at the shop?"

"If it's only for football season, I can work around you. You'll owe the boys at the shop for picking up your slack."

"I can keep doing the Sunday late shift. Friday evenings. There’s no practice after school Friday, and I know no one likes that shift. We can ask Carole and Finn about either eating later on Friday or switching our family dinner night for football season."

"Sounds good. Now, I've got one more thing. Finn's graduating at the end of the year. Carole, and I wanted to give him something to remember his last summer before college. I thought maybe build him a classic car. I heard him and Puck saying they might want to spend the summer driving to California or something."

Kurt smiled. "I can see that. I know he was going to ask you for a new computer as a graduation present, but… different colleges have different requirements for freshmen computers, so it would make more sense to wait until the end of summer for that."

"I assume a car is not something you'd want when it's you graduate."

"I have the Navigator. If I end up in New York, I might ask you to sell it, but if I stay in Ohio, it's still the most practical car for me."

Burt said, "And I assume a new computer would be in the fall for wherever you're going?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Let's see if they'll sell us a couple of cups of coffee to go, and head on home."

***  
Kurt had worked his butt off via Skype, phone, and email to get everything set with the other members of his decathlon team. He'd spoken to Figgins, with Mister Schu handy as his advisor, and arranged to take his two scheduled Thursday tests -- French and Trigonometry -- after school on Wednesday so that he could drive down to Dalton for the group presentation. He'd worked it out carefully. By leaving right after second period, missing trig, lunch, French, and study hall, he'd be able to drive down, participate in the hour and a half presentation and question and answer period and drive back in time for glee club in the afternoon.

Figgins approved, somewhat reluctantly.

On the Thursday, everything went exactly as planned. The presentation was different from the others which made them a hit with their fellow students, and the group had gotten a 3.4 on the assignment. In speaking to Mister Gresham afterwards, they might have had a 4.0 if they’d been able to pull a wider demographic among their respondents.

Kurt thanked everyone, and took the grade report back to Figgins who was trying to figure out how to make it fit into Kurt’s McKinley report card.

When he walked into the classroom for Glee, he apologized to Mister Schu for being late and went to sit by Mercedes.

Brittany smiled at him; Santana wolf-whistled. Puck looked thoughtful and finally said, “You’re handsome, dude.”

“What?” Kurt spun around in his chair to look at Puck.

“I mean, you, like, dress up all the time and stuff, and I’d seen you in the Dalton uniform, but...” Puck was clearly at a loss for words. “You look like a man.” Puck nodded in satisfaction at having found the right way to say it.

Kurt’s eyes narrowed. He said, “I’ve always been a guy, Puckerman.”

He elaborated, “You moved like someone who _should_ be wearing a suit and giving orders.”

Mister Schu smiled at them all. “That’s actually very perceptive, Puck. Maybe that should be our theme for next week, how we see people and how that can change.” He went up and wrote “Perceptions” on the whiteboard.

Mercedes caught Kurt’s eye and they giggled quietly. Privately, though, Kurt thought Puck was right. Being with Blaine -- knowing they were thinking about a future together -- made him more adult than the constantly shifting relationship pinwheel the others seemed to spin through.


	4. Travel and its Planning

Blaine called by the shop after his construction shift. He'd worked out the details with Dalton so that he could work part time and rather than have study halls, he worked Tuesday and Thursday afternoon shifts for Jim Kawalski.

Burt finished helping the customer he was with and walked over to him with his hand out-stretched. "So why aren't you haunting the McKinley parking lot?"

"I will be, but I wanted to talk to you first. You know I go to Aunt Kent for my vacations, right?"

Burt nodded.

"Well, this year, since I'm low man on the totem pole, I offered to work double shifts over Christmas-New Year's break. It lets the guys with kids have their time off, and it prevents us getting behind on the project."

Burt said, "I hope that means you'll spend Christmas Eve and Day with us."

Blaine brightened. "Yes, thank you. And I'd like to take Kurt out for New Year's Eve -- or maybe just stay in and watch old movies with him."

"I think Finn and Kurt were hoping we'd allow the glee club to have a party for New Year's at our place."

Blaine said, "Then I'm probably invited." He sighed. "Since I'm doing the Christmas through New Year's extra shifts, Jim made sure that I have the Thanksgiving four day weekend off. I'm going to see Aunt Kent -- I'll probably drive since it's cheaper. She's invited Kurt."

Burt gave a crooked smile. "Is this the going home to meet the folks visit?"

"I met you before Kurt and I started dating. You were pretty intimidating -- all three times."

"Three times," Burt asked.

He ticked them off on his fingers. "Finding me drunk in Kurt's bed, when I came to the shop to ask you to give him 'the talk,' and when I was finally introduced as 'the boyfriend.'"

Burt nodded. "All situations where I intended to be intimidating."

"It's Kurt's turn to have the watery knees. Aunt Kent may only be five-foot-two, but she can take on anyone when she wants to."

"Let me talk to Carole. With the Washington trip, I don't know about …"

"As I said, I plan to drive."

"Not in that roller skate of yours. Not in the middle of winter with Kurt. If Carole says it's all right, then you'll take Kurt's car to Chicago. And I determine your time table so it's always light out while you're driving."

Blaine smiled. "I'll wait to hear what Carole said before mentioning it to Kurt."

"You do that. And, Kid, I hope I'm still intimidating."

"Trust me, Burt, you regularly terrify me."

***  
Just before Christmas, Blaine came to a Friday dinner with an envelope in his pocket. He shared with everyone at the table that he didn't make it into Cornell on early admission. He planned to spend most of the Christmas break completing his other applications and getting them sent off.

He knew Cornell was still possible, but when they talked later, Blaine told Kurt that he'd rather go elsewhere -- at least for undergraduate work. He didn't mention Oberlin or Carnegie-Mellon or Stanford, even though he was planning to apply to all three, but in the back of both their minds was the thought of going to Oberlin together.

***  
Over President's weekend, Blaine drove up from Dalton to spend it with the Hummels. He'd received five packets and two letters from colleges over the past two weeks, and he hadn't opened any of them. He wanted to wait for Kurt.

When he got there, Kurt was cooking dinner, since it was Carole's day on the third shift. The scent of a rich stew permeated the house, and Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt from behind, nuzzling his neck.

"You'd better not be Finn."

Blaine laughed. "You're right. Why would that even cross your mind?"

"He begged for the _carbonnade flamande_ when I said I was making stew -- well, he called it 'that one with the onions and mustard and beer,' but he meant _carbonnade flamande._ "

"I'll tell you one major difference between us."

"Eight inches of height?" Kurt quipped.

Blaine dropped his voice and said, "I keep those eight inches where they count, and you know it, Angel."

Kurt blushed at him. "I do."

"No, the major difference is that Finn wouldn't think you smelled better than the stew."

Kurt saw the envelopes on the table. "Give me five minutes, and I'll be able to cover the pot and leave it to cook for the next two hours."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Take off your blazer and slice those apples. There's a bowl of acidulated water on the counter."

Blaine complied, and they chatted back and forth while Kurt cleaned the greens for the salad and began the first stage of the yeast crust he was planning to use later.

They got to a good holding point. Kurt set the timer for the crust and washed his hands before sitting at the dining table with Blaine.

"I assume the letters are rejections. They're from Columbia and Cornell."

"Open them and see," Kurt said.

Blaine did, and heaved a deep sigh. "Yeah. Part of me wants to dance about Cornell, which is stupid. It's better to have college covered."

"Yeah, but I get it. The change would be easier if someone else were going with you. Not me, necessarily, but Dalton men all seem to apply to Dartmouth, Harvard, or Yale if they're going Ivy League."

Blaine nodded. "I worry that I half-assed my essays for them because I didn't want to leave you."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "I love you, but if I ever find out that you didn't do your best deliberately, I will kick your ass from here to Canada."

"You know you can do whatever you want with my ass." Blaine reached for the first packet and tore it open. "I got into St. John's. There's no scholarship, but their tuition isn't too steep and they have work-study programs." He tore open the second envelope. "Same thing with Carnegie-Mellon -- except the bit about their tuition not being steep. Work-study is available, and there's a couple of things about how to earn academic scholarships for the second year."

"I didn't think they ever offered scholarships." Kurt handed him the next envelope.

"Stanford. They're offering work-study only, too, but they also say they'll hold my place for up to two years if I need it."

"To hell with the Ivy League, I'm impressed."

Blaine reached for the third packet. "George Washington wants me. I mean, they've even provided a partial academic scholarship as well as mentioning their many fine work-study opportunities."

Their hands touched over the last packet. "You open it, Angel."

"You know you got in. They don't send the eight by ten envelopes unless you did."

"Yeah, but…"

Kurt nodded and opened the packet. He grinned. "You're in for the three-two program! You've been offered a partial scholarship for soccer _and_ a partial academic one. Between them, it covers about half the tuition."

Blaine breathed out. "Well, that means it's between Oberlin and St. John's just for the financials. And I still have to worry about residence halls and food plans."

Kurt shook his head. "Stanford will let you defer long enough that your trust fund could pay for it. If I make it into Oberlin, I'm on a five year program, so we'd still graduate at the same time. And Carnegie-Mellon is better for engineering. I'm sure they'd let you defer a year"

"If Oberlin hadn't accepted me for the three-two, maybe. But it's a double degree with the engineering portion coming from another school and both Stanford and Carnegie-Mellon are on the list of other schools. Oberlin gives me you."

" _If_ I get in and _if_ they can provide enough of a scholarship. I mean, yes, my ideal scholarship would be the Hellespont one that Mister Caldwell found, but if I can get a full scholarship without all the perks and benefits, I know my college fund will cover dorms and meals -- and probably still be able to help Finn out with his schooling."

The clock sounded and Kurt went to beat down the crust. He put it aside for the second rise and checked the stew. Then he put on water for the barley he intended to serve the stew over.

He turned back to Blaine and asked, "Are you worried we won't survive at separate schools?"

Blaine gave a half smile. "I know the risks are higher, but, no. I think in some ways, separate schools might make us work harder for our goals, for each other, if you will. But there are two things. The first is, the more I read about it, the more I like Oberlin. Some of it's for the same things that impressed you -- like the art loan scheme. Some of it is the feeling that engineers are like doctors in a way. If we're not careful, all we end up knowing about is engineering. One of my teachers in middle school called doctors 'sophomores plus six.' Oberlin -- the double degree program especially -- would make me more well-rounded than if I went for a four year engineering degree from another school." He took a deep breath. "I won't pretend being near you doesn't have a lot of appeal, too."

Kurt nodded. "The first step is to ask them if you can defer those scholarships for a year, then. If not, some of the decision is made." He smiled sweetly at his boyfriend. "I love you."

"It's mutual," Blaine said.

***  
Blaine’s graduation had been bittersweet. He was the only person in his graduating class who wasn’t heading straight to college -- in fact, he’d had to ask Jim Kawalski to rearrange his schedule for two weeks in order to attend his graduation because he started working construction full time immediately after his last final exam.

The Warblers had sung, and Blaine was amazed at the outpouring of applause when the last note died. The Hummels had attended, but neither of his parents had, which meant his little sister couldn’t come either. Aunt Kent sent him a long letter from her trip to Russia. In it, she’d offered to cover his dorm fees and meal plan at Oberlin when he went. They’d spend Thanksgiving together again, but Blaine missed her presence at the graduation more than he’d thought he would.

Finn’s graduation the following week was more fun. For one thing, not having to stress about what emotion would do to his singing voice made it much easier on Blaine.

It was interesting being a part of the extended Hummel family. Finn and most of the rest of New Directions -- well, the ones who were graduating -- had assumed Blaine would be at the graduation and attend the party afterward. Their ceremony lasted longer than Dalton’s because they had three times as many students, but it was less structured and more enjoyable overall. The Glee Club seniors had performed _Time to Say Goodbye_ as their parting song.

Finn and Puck had been talking all year about saving their money for a trip across country, and they planned to leave the following week.

On Sunday, over a belated breakfast of blueberry buckwheat pancakes and poached eggs, Finn had gotten his graduation gifts. He’d been genuinely thrilled by the classic 1957 Thunderbird that Kurt and Burt, with a little help from Blaine, had rebuilt for him. His Mom and Burt had given him cash for the trip. Kurt gave him a new phone, and Blaine had gotten Finn gift cards to several national chain restaurants.

Blaine was a little shocked at how tightly Finn had hugged him. Finally, Finn said, “Puck and I looked at our budget and realized we’d forgotten to put down meals when we planned. You’re a lifesaver.”

Burt grinned at his stepson. “Well, don’t forget, you’re starting at OSU, Lima in August. We expect you back by then.”

“I won’t forget.” He hugged his Mom, “And we’ll both drive carefully, too.”

Kurt looked at them all and caught Blaine’s eye. He mouthed, “Next year, it’s us.”

***  
Blaine walked into the Hummel house in December and found Carole in the kitchen fixing Friday night dinner. He kissed her cheek.

“Kurt’s finishing up some calculus homework. I think he’s worried about his exams next week,” Carole said.

Blaine said, “No reason he should be. His math’s weaker than mine, but he’s so far ahead of me in every other subject that I don’t think it matters.”

Finn came in. “Actually, Kurt was helping me with my homework. I don’t understand why I have to take algebra again. I passed it in high school.”

“Only barely,” Kurt said. He kissed Blaine. “Anything I can help with?”

“Put the bread and salad on the table.” She looked at Blaine. “He made the bread, prepped the salad, and is making baked apples for dessert.”

“I love those.”

Finn shrugged and said, “I like cake better, but anything’ beats campus food.”

Burt got in a few minutes later, and the five of them sat down to Carole’s turkey chili as soon as he’d washed his hands.

Finn cleared the table, and just before dessert, Kurt pulled a large flat envelope from under his chair cushion and handed it to his Dad.

Kurt said, “I got this in the mail on Wednesday. I wanted to wait until everyone was here to find out what they said.”

Finn blinked. “It’s gotta be an acceptance, because rejections are in the small envelopes.”

Kurt smiled a little wanly and nodded. “That doesn’t mean I’ll get everything I need, though.”

“Right. So that’s why you want the guy with the heart condition to open it.” Burt turned the envelope over in his hands a few times.

Kurt reached for it. “I wasn’t thinking, Dad, I can...”

“Kidding.” Burt pulled it open and began to read. “You’ve definitely been accepted.” His eyes went down the page. He read aloud, “The Board of Governors is pleased to award you the Hellespont Scholarship, the details of which are attached.”

Kurt gasped. “I got it.”

Blaine started to laugh. “You got it.”

“Is that the super-scholarship thing? Like they give you spending money and stuff,” Finn asked.

Kurt nodded tightly before finding his voice. “The bursary isn’t much, but my tuition, fees, room, and meal plan are all covered as long as I take four semesters of Greek and maintain a …”

Burt looked at the letter, “Three-point-three average with no grade lower than two-point-five.”

“What Dad said.”

“Not to mention it’s a five year program where you’ll get two degrees.”

Kurt covered Blaine’s hand with his own. “Same as you. Well, different schools, but the same idea.”

Finn looked surprised. “I thought you were going to Oberlin, too.”

“I am for three years, and I’ll get a liberal arts degree from them. But I’ll spend two years studying at another school to get a BS in engineering as well.”

“So, bro, what will your two degrees be in?”

“I don’t have to declare a major yet, but one will be from the conservatory -- it’s why I had to audition for vocal performance -- and the other will be a liberal arts degree.” Kurt turned to look at Blaine. “We’re going to college together,” he said in a voice filled with wonder.

Blaine grinned at him. “Yes, we are.”  
***  
This wasn't something they'd done more than once or twice, but Burt thought it was important, which was why Blaine was meeting Burt at LuLu's for breakfast on his day off rather than sleeping late.

Blaine was already there, nursing a coffee, when Burt arrived.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. Whatever you want, it's on me," Burt said.

Blaine smiled at him. "And I'll tell Kurt if you don't stick to the heart healthy options. I can't be bribed."

"Good to know." He ordered an egg white omelet with spinach and onions and a side of hashed browns.

Blaine told the waiter, "Same for me," and looked at Burt expectantly.

"So Kurt's graduation is coming up and Carole and I were talking about what to get him. We've got a couple of ideas, but thought we should run them by you -- and, I hope you don't mind -- we also ran them by your Aunt."

"Aunt Kent? Why?"

"Well, after your graduation last year, you mentioned that she was waiting to give you your graduation present until after you'd finished your year of working."

Blaine nodded. "She said she was proud of my decision, but she wanted to be sure I was going to go to college."

"You've told Oberlin you're showing up, right?"

"I set up a payment plan with the school last year. It's why money's been tight for me. I've pretty much paid my share of my first year including the dorm fees. Aunt Kent is picking up my meal plan, and I'll pay her back when my trust kicks in at twenty-one. I have health insurance, so long as I'm working at least 120 hours in a quarter…"

Burt nodded. "You've got a good work ethic. So does Kurt. That super scholarship thing he won, well, it means that we don't have to worry about money. Finn's doing well at Ohio State, Lima, and since he's been living at home this year, it hasn't been expensive."

"I know he loved the car and the cross-country trip last year." Blaine tucked into the plate of food that the waiter had brought and signaled for more coffee.

"And we want to do something similar for Kurt, except he doesn't want a new car or even a cool old one like Finn's T-bird."

"So, what are you thinking of," Blaine asked.

"There are two different programs in France. I know you took Latin and German at Dalton, but would you be interested in learning French?"

"Me? I mean, I know Kurt would love to do some type of immersion thing in France. Hell, he'd be thrilled with Quebec."

Burt shrugged. "I'm pretty sure he'd do well no matter what, but he'd enjoy it more with you. Now your Aunt had an idea that was a little different, since you two are talking about architecture. So, we've combined our ideas, but we wanted your reaction before we paid for anything -- and, since I know you'll ask, I've already talked to Finn."

Blaine blinked. "What's the combined idea?"

"Your Aunt would like to give you and Kurt three week Eurrail passes beginning right after his graduation and the airfare."

Blaine's eyes went wide. "That would be…"

"Really good for a pair of budding architects to see some great old buildings? Carole and I would like to give you a month-long course in French. There's a place called Institute de Touraine. You'd have to come up with your own spending money for the summer, and I know that might be tough. Thing is, I checked with Oberlin, if Kurt qualifies for a high enough class and passes his certificate, they'll give him credit. Since you've never taken French, they'll do the same for you if you pass the basic level."

"I… you know we're both entering as second semester Freshmen, right?"

"Yeah. And cutting as much off as you can at the beginning, it's gotta help?"

Blaine just stared at Burt. "It would help immensely. Wait a minute. You said there was a second choice for Kurt?"

"That Cordon Bleu place in Paris, but it would be a lot more expensive. Enough more expensive that the Eurrail would probably be out -- your aunt said she'd cover the living expenses for that one. It's just I don't know if you like cooking the way Kurt does."

"I think, as much as Kurt loves cooking, and Audrey Hepburn in _Sabrina_ for that matter, a wider experience and a credential that will check off a requirement at college would probably be his preference."

Burt saw a shadow cast over Blaine. "But?"

"I can't accept this. It's too big."

"You said that when I gave you free maintenance for two years as your graduation present last year, too. If Kurt needed his college fund, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Every penny would be saved to pay for something at school right through his Master's degree, because, yeah, I paid attention when you two talked about architect credentials so I know you're both going to grad school. But Kurt's spent two years busting his butt for this scholarship. You've spent two years working hard to save money for your first three semesters of school -- and you have a couple of scholarships on top of it -- it is two?"

"Yeah, an academic and a soccer scholarship. Between them, they cut about half off my tuition."

"And you said the first year is paid off?"

"Yes. But a full summer without being paid, hell, spending money instead…"

"You'll be twenty soon. If I understand this trust fund thing, one year at college and you won't need those scholarships anymore."

Blaine sighed. "I know. Technically, the academic one isn't needs based. I could keep it, as long as I make the grades, even after the trust kicks in…"

"But you won't because you figure someone else will need it more." Burt glanced at his hands. "Once Finn and Kurt have both graduated, I'm taking Carole to Hawai'i for a belated honeymoon -- hell, at that point it will be a belated fifth anniversary. I'm never going to be rich, but that damned recession we're still getting out of, mechanics with their own shops did well out of it. People didn't trade in old cars for new ones. They got repairs. They were better about maintenance because they were afraid of major repairs, and Kurt -- there are maybe ten people in the Midwest who drive Citroens, but they bring their business to us because he got certified on it. Renault's and Fiat's too. Other than the new house and the Dalton fees, we haven't had many terrible expenses, either. We did good. Two incomes meant we could afford Finn's dream trip in his classic car. Even sending both of you to this institute for French won't cost us more than that did. You're part of the family now, too. Carole and I worry about you. We _are_ your local contacts on your forms, aren't we?"

"Kurt is. When we go to school, I'm having my lawyer draw up a medical power of attorney for him -- since Aunt Kent's so far away and the rest of my family…" Blaine looked away.

Burt reached across the table and patted Blaine's hand. "You're family. I hope you'll accept the trip because I think Kurt will turn it down if you don't go. And don't worry, if you choose not to go, I won't tell him it was offered to you."

"Can I think about it? Look at my bank balance? I'd actually been a little worried because my lease is up at the end of June, but school didn't start until the end of August."

"You can store your stuff at our place, just mark your boxes."

Blaine nodded. 'Thank you for asking me privately."

"No problem, kid."

***  
After a long talk with Aunt Kent, Blaine called Burt. "I have one condition. You take Carole to Hawai'i the Christmas after I turn twenty-one -- on me."

"Kid, gifts are not exchanges."

"I'm accepting the gift of two months with Kurt when I know you'd like to have a last summer with him before school. And I'm accepting your offer about storage. You and Carole and Finn have given me so much for the past couple of years..."

"Tell you what. You join Kurt in Europe, and we can talk about Hawai'i after _next_ summer," Burt said.

"Fair enough. And, I know it's not really in my best interests, but I think Kurt might like the 'living with a French family' option rather than living on the dorms. It's more immersive."

"And a little cheaper," Burt said drily. "That part I'll leave up to him. Meantime, I'll get everything else put together with your aunt. Will we see you at dinner this Friday?"

Blaine smiled into the phone. "Yes."

"Then that's when we'll tell him."

***  
Blaine and Kurt spent a large chunk of May looking at train schedules and planning their trip. Icelandair gave them the most bang for their Eurrail buck, but a couple of Skype discussions with Aunt Kent had helped them organize their itinerary a little better than the original sprawling mess they'd had.

Blaine's graduation gift to Kurt was three nights in Venice. Per a long private talk with his Aunt where she explained that most cheap accommodations in Venice were in an industrial town called Venice-Mestre, he found a little hotel right on the Grand Canal. It only had nine rooms, but he reserved one of the only two with a private bath in the middle of their second week. They'd do everything in Italy except Milan after those three nights and everything outside of Italy -- except Milan -- before those three nights.

The trip would start in Copenhagen, go through Amsterdam and Brussels before taking a night train to Salzburg because Kurt couldn't miss seeing the city where his beloved _Sound of Music_ had been filmed. They'd debated whether to do much in Germany, but most of the buildings they wanted to see were in Italy and France, so, after much discussion, that's where they decided to concentrate their efforts. From Salzburg they'd go to Milan, Venice, a town called Ravenna at Aunt Kent's suggestion which would also allow them to see Bologna and Ferrara easily, then Florence and Rome. They were still debating about doing Pisa on their way back up, but Kurt thought taking the night train from Rome to Nice and then going to Avignon and Strasbourg before hitting Tours would be best, and as tight as their schedule seemed to be Blaine was leaning that way, too.

They'd decided to spend two of their four school weekends in Paris rather than try to fit the city into their Eurrail itinerary.

The whole plan was complicated and Kurt was panicking about having to pack only one bag and one satchel. Among other things, they weren't going to bring a computer or smart phone with them; instead they planned to use internet cafes and prepaid phone cards to call the Hummels and Aunt Kent.

Graduation was on the first Saturday of June. Blaine had already moved his boxes to Kurt's room. The bags were packed. He sat between Finn and Burt and listened to Kurt give his salutatorian's speech and applauded loudly when he, Artie, and Mercedes accepted their diplomas. Kurt and Mercedes -- and Artie -- were still in the Glee Club, but the rest of the ones who'd started New Directions had graduated when Finn did the previous year. Mike and Tina were at Harvard and MIT respectively; Rachel had made it to the American auditions for several drama schools and was studying at the Central School of Drama in London now. Quinn was at Fordham. Santana had gotten into Smith and was apparently having a great time. And Sam, Puck, and Brittany were all with Finn studying at OSU, Lima.

Most of them were home for the summer already, so Mercedes folks were having a party for her graduation with everyone invited. Blaine was going as Kurt's date, but Finn was getting him to the party a little later.

Kurt, Mercedes, and Artie were going to head off together and exchange going away gifts before Kurt and Blaine got on their plane to New York (and from there to Reykjavik and then to Copenhagen) the following day.

Last night, Finn had given Kurt his graduation present -- a good digital camera with zoom and wide angle options. Blaine had helped him figure out how to pack it without losing one single piece of clothing or essential part of his moisturizing routine which had gotten him a wonderful reward.

When Finn and Blaine arrived at Mercedes' house, Kurt greeted him with a kiss.

Blaine said, "No celebratory champagne?"

"Everything I've read says no alcohol or caffeine for seventy-two hours before flying in order to keep hydrated."

Blaine just smiled at him, and he was surprised when Mercedes came up and hugged him. "I loved the bag and the Kindle. It's so thoughtful of you both."

"Well, nothing is less flattering than an oversized, overstuffed handbag," Kurt said, "And I hope most of your first semester books will be available electronically. All of mine for English and Philosophy are, luckily."

Mercedes patted Kurt's cheek. "I haven't had a chance to check yet. I can't believe we aren't going to see each other all summer."

Kurt reached over Blaine to pull her into a hug. I will be there to help decorate your dorm, since Central State starts the week before Oberlin. And I will send you a postcard from every city we visit."

"I know you will." She turned to Blaine. "You look after him."

"I don't plan to let him out of my sight."

Artie came up to them and said, "I don't get dorm decoration?"

"While Stanford is too far to commute, I am more than willing to be your online consultant." Kurt smiled at him fondly.

"My man." Artie held his hand out for a fist bump and Kurt did as expected.

"No, he's my man," Blaine said, grinning.

***  
They arrived in Copenhagen and immediately went to the train station hotel. It was a little more expensive than they'd planned, but the people at the front desk let them store their bags until the official check-in time that afternoon, and offered them a free buffet breakfast since they were in the lobby at seven a.m. Both boys were exhausted and said yes to the bread, yogurt and coffee spread in front of them.

Aunt Kent had warned them not to fall asleep in the middle of the day. Her recommendation was to wander off and do something fun and go to bed early -- as long as it was after six in the evening. So they went back to the train station and started their Eurrail by spending the day at Elsinore. They also booked themselves on a late night train with couchette sleepers to Amsterdam for the next night -- another tip from Blaine's widely travelled aunt.

They took an evening boat ride along the canals and out by the Little Mermaid statue before calling it a night around nine. The sun was still up, and they laughed about early bedtimes and then sighed over the fact they were in twin beds.

The next day, Blaine arranged to leave their bags at the hotel until their train departed, and they went off to explore Rosenborg and the shopping street before heading to Tivoli in the afternoon. After several hours of playing on the rides and seeing the free performances, they settled in to dinner at Groften.

Blaine grinned at Kurt. "I know we can't eat like this every night, although I do have plans for us in Brussels and Venice, but I'm glad we can do it tonight."

"I had no idea what this kind of travel would be like."

"It's only our second day."

Kurt looked up as the waiter brought him a platter of white asparagus with a simple sauce of drawn butter and bread crumbs. Blaine started with a cup of asparagus soup and they had ordered the smorrebrod platter for two as their main course.

Dinner was magical. Hearing another language spoken all around them, seeing the lights outlining the buildings, listening to the rides, and tasting foods that were so different from the kind Kurt usually ate or fixed amazed them both.

They wandered around and watched the Commedia dell'Arte performance at the Peacock Theater before, reluctantly, leaving to pick up their bags at the hotel. It was still light when their train left at nine, and they found their couchettes. They were on the two top bunks of six in the room, and Kurt grinned as he watched Blaine swing himself up like monkey. Kurt used the ladder and figured out how to store their bags before he went to brush his teeth and finish his ablutions.

He waited outside the compartment for Blaine to do the same. He watched the flat countryside filled with bright yellow fields and the occasional green one rush by the window.

Blaine stood next to him and followed his eye line. "It looks nothing like Ohio."

"It really doesn't. I thought New York had prepared me. It's bigger than Copenhagen, but… it's still light out and even the plants look different." Kurt gave an unamused half-laugh. "I'm a hick."

"You're an eighteen year old who's out of the country for the first time. It's different. I've been to Brussels and The Hague and London with my folks, but that was ten years ago. It's different being with you, seeing new places."

Kurt nodded almost absent-mindedly. "Do you know what Artie got me for graduation?"

Blaine shook his head and covered Kurt's hand with his.

Kurt squeezed it. "Three beautifully bound notebooks. One is ruled and set up like a regular book, just a journal. The second is blank paper for drawings, and the third is gridded so I can tell the measurements of what I draw."

"It's the perfect gift for a trip like this." He looked at the landscape before saying, "What did we get him?"

"A fifty dollar gift certificate to Amazon."

"Also thoughtful," Blaine said.

"Yes, but it didn't take _much_ thought. I'm usually better than that." He took a deep breath. "I want to try pot while we're in Amsterdam."

Blaine grinned. "I know we said one extravagance per city. I figured that might be our extravagance there. I researched a couple of the coffee shops that have good reputations."

"Oh, thank God. I was too afraid my dad would find it in my browser history."

"Did you work out which youth hostel we should try first?"

"Yes."

"Then we'll consider the research duties evenly shared," Blaine said.

Kurt blushed and turned to him. He gave his boyfriend a soft kiss, and Blaine deepened it just a little. "I love you." There was another quick kiss. "I put the bag with the bread and cheese handy for in the morning. There are a couple of juice packs too."

"Then we'll be fine. Let's go get in our bunks."

Kurt grinned at him.

As they settled down, Blaine saw Kurt turn on his reading light and pull out a journal and a pen. His last thought as he drifted off to sleep was that he'd have to send Artie a thank you postcard.

***  
They considered it fortuitous that the coffeeshop Blaine had researched and the hostel Kurt had found were only about a minute's walk from each other. Unfortunately, the only rooms available at the hostel were dorm style. They went to Kurt's second choice -- a houseboat on Oosterdok which was only five minutes away and had private rooms. The room they were given was tiny and had bunk beds, but it was no smaller than the compartment on the train. The room was clean, as was the bathroom down the hall, and breakfast would be included. They took it.

Neither of them liked the idea of smoking, which was why Blaine had chosen one of the last coffee houses offering space cake. They had coffee and a simple meal -- probably a little more expensive than a regular café would have been -- and ordered the cake for dessert.

Blaine said quietly, "All right, everything I've read says the high will last longer, but it will take longer to kick in, like twenty minutes. Do we have water and munchies?"

Kurt chuffed a small laugh and shook his head. "Blaine, you helped me pick everything out on the way here. We'll be fine."

One of the waiters brought their cakes and said, "Yes, you'll be fine. Have a cup of coffee?"

They glanced at each other and then at the rainbow striped cake. Kurt said, "I'd like coffee."

Blaine nodded his agreement, and they waited until it arrived, too, to take their first bites.

It was really good cake. They got their bill, finished their coffee, and walked back to the boat. As they lay back on the bed, they turned on the radio in the room. Blaine didn't like the first station and kept searching until he found one that captured his attention.

It was a jazz station and Kurt grinned at him. "[My Favorite Things](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=odVCH7UVTOY&feature=related)! It's different like this."

Blaine sat beside him on Kurt's lower bunk and cuddled close to him. "I think the cake is kicking in."

"Why?"

"Because it's like I'm hearing the music through my skin."

Kurt snuggled closer and they listened together as the music swirled and swooped around them. About mid-way through the next song, Kurt stilled Blaine's hand where it had been stroking his wrist. His breath was coming rapidly, and Blaine looked at him.

"Your pupils are huge. Was I rubbing too hard?"

Kurt swallowed. "No. I… it's just that I was about to come."

"From having your wrist caressed?" Blaine peered at him more deeply. "That's incredible. Are you that sensitive all over?"

"I… hmmm." He started to undo his clothes. "Pull the curtains shut, just in case someone can see."

"Okay." Blaine tripped and started to giggle. "If I take off my clothes, I'll bet I can hear the music all over."

Kurt moaned and pushed back the covers. "I want you to touch me again. Please, Blaine."

Blaine looked at Kurt spread out on the narrow bunk, and he leaned over to press his ear over Kurt's heart. "The beat is part of the music, and it all comes from you, my Kurt. My Angel. My love. _My missing puzzle piece_ ," he sang.

Kurt reached up and pulled him into a kiss and came all over both of them.

"Wow," Blaine said. "That was beautiful." His hand reached out to spread the stickiness into Kurt's skin. The song on the radio changed into something low and throaty with a saxophone lead, and Blaine breathed deeply to get more music.

Kurt nuzzled his lover, nipping when the flow of the song told him to, and pulling back in the spaces to allow Blaine to come to him. He hummed as he tugged Blaine's earlobe with his teeth, and found himself pushed back into the mattress, pressed between the wall and Blaine's body.

He raked his nails down Blaine's back, and Blaine said, "That note was perfect. I want to hear it again."

Kurt dragged the pads of his fingers back up to Blaine's shoulders. He sucked the other boy's lower lip between his, and once again raked Blaine's back all the way from his shoulders to his ass.

Blaine came with a shout and pressed them together more closely.

The rest of the night was spent making love with heightened senses; they sucked each other over and over and claimed each other passionately and possessively. Blaine broke off a few times to try to get the notes he was hearing on paper, and Kurt wrote poetry -- he seemed to be perpetually aroused, tuned into every thought and emotion his lover was sharing.

When they woke the next morning, Kurt reached up and massaged his jaw. "Dry mouth. You warned me about dry mouth." He found the bag with munchies that they'd left untouched. He pulled out a bottle of water and a bottle of juice and drank about half of each.

"How many times did we come?"

"I think we're lucky dicks can't actually break off," Kurt said as he handed Blaine a bottle of water and one of juice. He turned off the jazz station which was still playing quietly in the background.

"That was kind of amazing."

"What, that you translate the whole world into music, or that I become the male equivalent of a nymphomaniac." He frowned. "There has to be a word for that."

“Satyr?”

Kurt shook his head. “It doesn’t have the same emotional feel.’

Blaine picked up a sheet of paper and looked at the two scrawls on it. "I think your poetry ended up better than my music." He swallowed some water, and then took another sip and just held it in his mouth for a moment. He scratched his chest. "I can't believe we didn't shower last night."

Kurt shuddered. "I feel really gross right now." He pulled on a pair of sweats that he'd brought for shower runs and grabbed his supplies. He looked closely at Blaine who seemed to have closed in on himself. "Blaine. Look at me."

His boyfriend turned to him, and Kurt sat on the bed, pulling him into his arms.

"Last night was amazing. I loved everything we did. If we'd drunk some water and had a shower before we fell asleep, it would have been a perfect night -- a perfectly weird night, but definitely perfect."

Blaine pressed a kiss to Kurt's throat. "So the only thing that's disgusting is bad breath and dried semen?"

Kurt dropped his head to Blaine's shoulder and dissolved into giggles. "Pretty much. I don't know whether I ever want to try pot again, certainly not any time soon because I want to process this. We got high, and all we wanted to do was create music and poetry and love each other. That's kind of cool in a weird way."

"I love you, Angel."

"I'll give you fair warning. I'm kind of looking forward to separate beds tonight."

Blaine tousled Kurt's hair. "Me, too. Go. Shower."

"After all, the Rembrandt Museum awaits us."

***  
It was amazing how quickly they settled into a routine. Most nights they stayed at cheap hotels or hostels with the bathroom down the hall. They preferred when they could get private rooms, but their budget meant there were several cities where they ended up in large rooms sharing with up to six other guys, or, like in Salzburg, a huge dormitory with nearly thirty beds.

The couchettes for long train trips were a different experience though still close quarters with strangers. They slept surprisingly well in them, and it was a way to save on hotel expenses.

Kurt had them try new cheeses everywhere they went, so dinner was usually a local cheese, a local bread, fresh fruit, and a bottle of water; sometimes there'd be a salad or a local meat specialty, too. Breakfast was at the hotel, and they ate as heartily as they could and held off their lunch, which usually was their big meal of the day, until just before the restaurants’ closing times. They walked everywhere they could and figured out the public transportation when they couldn't.

Lunch was a local specialty usually at a café or restaurant they'd had recommended to them at a museum by one of the guards -- mussels and frites in Brussels at a local place no tourist had ever entered, blue trout in Salzburg at a little weinstube right on the banks of the Salzach, and risotto with saffron in Milan were among the treats they found. They’d have a glass of wine or beer or cider sometimes, since they weren’t underage in Europe.

Blaine kept a journal and a sketchbook similar to Kurt's, and that was the one part of the day that was sacrosanct -- the hour before bed when they wrote up their day. Sometimes, they'd talk about what they'd seen as they were writing, and, with a few exceptions, the details they'd noticed were different. They'd exchange sketchbooks occasionally to see what the other had captured, and Kurt even let Blaine use the graphed notebook a couple of times for really important pieces he wanted to analyze.

The thing that both of them noticed was that the places they thought would thrill or delight them often didn't. There were other tourists, though not as many as later in the summer would bring they'd been assured, and so many of them were in the same places they were. But while it seemed the entire world was looking over their shoulders in the museums near the Place Royale, no one else in the world seemed to know about the Crafts Museum at the Cinquentennaire.

And there were small things. Kurt's delight in the tiny hazelnut candy bars with his coffee in Brussels, or Blaine's joy in a street performer in Luxembourg moved between them and brought them closer. Kurt found out that Blaine would walk out of the hotel looking homeless if not stopped, and Blaine discovered that Kurt hated the little freckles across his nose and cheeks that showed up in spite of the SPF 40, the sunglasses, and the elegant Panama straw hat he wore.

They talked to people. So many spoke English, and Blaine's German and Kurt's French stood them in good stead when English failed them. They'd added a day in Zurich before heading to Milan, and seen Bruges and Luxembourg City as well as the cities they'd originally planned to.

Salzburg, while lovely, was expensive, which is why they'd ended up in dormitory student housing, and then there were six person rooms in both Zurich and Milan. It was good for their wallets, but not for their love life.

Venice gave them everything.


	5. Italy

Milan was expensive, everything they'd read had told them it would be, so they put off going there and staying for more than one night. They chose the things they wanted to see and saw them quickly.

Blaine had been impressed by Leonardo's Last Supper. It was in such a small room and such a large chunk of the wall. Somehow knowing the room was the refectory for the monks, that visually, at least, they were sharing in the last meal of Jesus every time they ate, made the painting resonate in a way that all the reproductions he'd seen over the years hadn't.

Kurt just thought the picture was far too large for the space, but he appreciated seeing it through Blaine's eyes.

They'd both loved the tour of La Scala, and Kurt had raided his gift money -- he kept a separate credit card for it -- to purchase and send two gorgeous handbags back to the States, one for Carole and one for Mercedes. Rachel's gift would have to wait until they found someplace that didn't use silk and leather for everything.

After their single night in Milan, they woke up early and caught the 6:35 train to Venice. While they'd brought a Kindle with several books on it pertinent to their journey or their fall classes, plus a couple of paperbacks each, they'd discovered that each of them bringing a couple of games was by far the best way to pass the time. Kurt had brought travel editions of Mastermind and Scrabble, and Blaine brought a combined chess, checkers, backgammon travel board and a deck of cards. The games gave them openings to talk to each other about what they'd seen and what they'd found and what they'd read.

This morning, they opened the backgammon board and played most of the way to Venice-Mestre. A couple of times, Kurt pulled out his sketchbook to draw the "spooky trees" he saw.

"They're pollarded," Blaine said. "It increases the yield for the fruit and makes it easier to pick."

Kurt stared at him. "How did you know that?"

"Some of the trees at Dalton are pollarded. I asked the grounds keepers why."

"I never noticed."

"If you'd stayed, I'd have taken you there in the spring time. The blossoms smell amazing."

Kurt blushed. "You know, most people assume I'm the romantic in our relationship."

"We can disabuse them of that notion if you want." Blaine touched Kurt's hand and smiled.

As soon as they pulled out of Venice-Mestre, they put away the game and got their bags down. Once they went over the long bridge, they made their way toward the exit.

The first thing they did when they got to the train station was check with the tourist office to find out what vaporetto they needed to take to their hotel and what stop to get off at. They also, based on a suggestion from Aunt Kent, found out the number of the vaporetto to the island of Torcello.

The hotel was glad to take their bags, but shooed them out the door as soon as possible. They were told they could come back after three, but Kurt reassured them in French that they wouldn't be back until the evening.

It was only a few steps from the tiny hotel to the Accademia art gallery, and they purchased their tickets for the day. They'd been warned that Italian hours were going to be different, and they saw that the museum closed at 2 p.m.

After spending a long morning in the museum taking in the beauty of Titian and Tintoretto, they walked up to the Rialto and found bread and cheese and fruit to pack for their excursion to Torcello. There was a little stall selling caffe freddo just by the vaporetto stop. Since it cost about fifty cents, they decided to try it.

"Oh my god," Kurt said. He'd been a little surprised that the glass was so tiny, but the powerfully strong espresso, sweetened until it was nearly a syrup and kept on ice, didn't need to be any larger.

"You can say that again. Wow." Blaine wandered over to one of the grocers and noticed the fresh cut fruit being kept under running water. He bought a slice of fresh coconut and a slice of watermelon apiece and they snacked on it while they waited for the water bus that would take them to Torcello.

Once they were on the boat, they found seats at the back. Kurt said, "I swear Italy is going to ruin my skin."

"You look wonderful, Angel, just a hint of gold to your skin."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "This is all lovely, and, I just walked over a bridge that's mentioned in Shakespeare, but I don't know why people seem to think it has a 'fairytale' quality to it. It's on water and all…"

"I'm sure the water and the history are a part of it. So many books were first published here, silks and spices, luxury goods, cultural references it's probably a kind of legendary status that we just can't…" His jaw dropped and, like Kurt, he stood to look across the lagoon.

The ornate pink façade of the Doge's palace was to their right; the pillar with the lion of San Marco was to the left. There was a tall campanile, ornate domes behind the palace, and a clock with four bronze horses on top. Blaine glanced behind him and saw a huge domed church across the vast expanse of lagoon.

"Or maybe we just hadn't seen the magic part yet."

Blaine nodded. "I'll take the second option. Tomorrow's Wednesday, right? Because Aunt Kent said we had to do San Marco on Wednesday."

"It's Wednesday. I… when we get back to the room I'll check opening hours and times for the tours in English." Kurt stood by rail and stared for a long time after their vaporetto started across the lagoon.

***  
The major thing to see at Torcello was the church, which had some spectacular mosaics, including a famous one of the Virgin Mary. They walked through the area hand in hand, finding a bench where they could have their picnic, before going inside the church to see the mosaics.

When they came out after photographing, sketching, and just absorbing the interior, they saw the vaporetto leaving the dock. It was going to be about a half hour wait for the next one, so Kurt found a bench and pulled out the postcards he'd bought and a pen to start his daily round of writing home. Blaine sat beside him for a couple of minutes, reading a paperback they'd picked up second hand in Zurich about the Weiner Werkstadt, but his eyes kept wandering over to where four boys were having a pick-up soccer game.

A misdirected kick sent the ball over to them and Blaine kicked it back. The second time the ball came their way, it seemed to be deliberate, and Blaine gave a sideways glance to Kurt who just grinned and shook his head at the begging expression on his boyfriend’s face. Blaine took that for permission and dribbled the ball back to the boys. They looked to be around ten, and even though Blaine didn't speak Italian, they made their intentions clear.

Blaine ended up as a permanent goalie for the two teams of two, or at least that's what Kurt figured out from the way they were playing. He'd written five postcards before he started to watch, and the grin he was wearing just kept spreading. He turned back to write a card to Mercedes, and when he looked up again, the kids were all crowded around a little grocer getting pieces of fruit from Blaine who grabbed a large bottle of water and brought it over to Kurt.

Kurt put away his cards, and stood. The vaporetto was on its way, and they needed to get to the stop. There were four ten year olds -- and one twenty year old -- who looked very disappointed that the game was going to end. The boys were still waving from the dock when the vaporetto departed.

Blaine pulled Kurt to him and rested his chin on Kurt's shoulder.

Kurt said, "You're going to be a good dad some day." He felt Blaine go still behind him.

Blaine asked, "Have you thought about it? Kids?"

"Not often. More since I met you. I know that if we have them, I'm going to want more than one."

"Really? You were an only child. And with my sister…"

Kurt turned and took his hand. They found seats and got more comfortable before Kurt said, "I know how much your relationship with Marianne hurts you. But she may get her head out of her ass one day and realize you share something -- a past -- that no one else has. As for me, my mom miscarried three times before I was born, and at least twice more after I was born. They were on a list to adopt when she died. I wasn't intended to be an only child and, inappropriate crushes notwithstanding, having Finn in my life is … it fills a gap I didn't know I had. Right up until he annoys me." He smiled as he said it.

"I miss her -- my bratty little sister. I used to call her that, but I loved her, love her. I'd do anything to know she was happy."

"I know, Blaine. And, as good a friend as Rachel's become, I don't want to end up creating another one of her. Or me. I know I can be selfish."

Blaine kissed his hand. "Everyone can be. I know I want kids, but not until we're completely through with school, and I think I want them to be ours."

"They will be, no matter what. We don't have to decide for a long time about the biology." He leaned into Blaine. "I want a nap back at the hotel before dinner."

"Sounds good. I know I'm looking forward to a private bathroom for a change."

Kurt groaned. "So we'll do some hand laundry before we nap."

"Yes, Angel."

***  
When they finally got to their room, they gaped at the huge double bed for a moment. Then Blaine pushed Kurt against the wall and kissed him. "I checked our finances. We're at least two hundred dollars better off than we thought we'd be by this point. I say we find a laundry tomorrow and pay to have our clothes cleaned."

Kurt smiled and nipped Blaine's lower lip. "And how shall we fill the time between now and a reasonable Italian dinner time?"

Blaine kissed the tip of Kurt's nose. "It's up to you whether we shower first or afterward, but I think we move this from against the wall to that great, big bed."

Kurt's hand snaked between them to cup Blaine's erection eliciting a hiss. "And what exactly do you want on that bed." He felt Blaine shiver against him.

"I can't decide if I want your mouth on me or my mouth on you."

Kurt nuzzled him. "Why choose?" He pushed against Blaine's shoulder and propelled him back on the bed. "Get your clothes off."

"Yes, sir."

"Hmm. I like it." Kurt grinned as he took off his shirt and gazed at his boyfriend stripping. "I also can't believe how much I like you all sweaty. I swear you didn't smell this good during soccer season."

Blaine lay back on the bed shifting the bedding so he could get under the covers. "It's the locker room. It gets into the skin. Now. Get. Over. Here."

Kurt shook his head and threw the covers back. He started nibbling at Blaine's ankles and slowly worked his way up.

***  
Dinner was linguine with tiny local clams still in their shells, two hot vegetables, salad, and fresh fruit. They shared a half pitcher of local wine before wandering back toward the hotel and making love again in the huge bed.

When Kurt got up to clean himself off, Blaine stood and talked to him outside the bathroom -- it was too small for them to share. As Kurt dried off and stepped out to let Blaine have his turn, Blaine placed a hand on his arm.

"Sleep naked beside me?"

Kurt saw something in Blaine's eyes -- a need, a softness -- and nodded. "While we're in Venice."

Blaine's face lit up, and, later, when he joined Kurt in bed, he sighed in deep contentment as they spooned close with nothing between them.

As he reached for the light, Kurt said, "You get to answer the door when breakfast is delivered."

"Yes, dear."

The following morning, Blaine woke about half an hour before the alarm. He peppered kisses over Kurt's shoulder and heard a giggle.

"I knew you wanted to sleep naked for extra sex."

"I'm pretty sure I'd have gotten the extra sex without it."

Kurt ground his ass into Blaine's lap. "Cocksure as always."

"Is that what you'd like this morning?"

Kurt stopped. "I…I don't think there's enough time before breakfast. Anything else you want, though."

Blaine smoothed his palm down Kurt's torso reveling in the contented sigh. "Hand me the lube."

"But…"

"Shh. I have another idea."

Kurt handed him the bottle. After a moment, he felt Blaine's hand between his cheeks spreading a thick layer of lube, then his cock wedged in between and Kurt ground back again. He giggled.

"What, Angel?"

"I'm having some weird images of hot dogs and buns."

Blaine laughed with him as he wrapped a slick hand around Kurt's erection eliciting a giggly moan.

"This is silly."

"Does it feel good?"

Kurt turned his head to look at Blaine with a joyful smile. "Amazing. It's still silly."

Blaine kissed him and their movements took on a little more urgency, grinding and clenching.

Kurt reached his hand back and grabbed Blaine's hip pulling him closer and Blaine started mouthing at Kurt's neck, inwardly cheering every time a swipe of his tongue brought forth another breathy moan.

Their climaxes built quickly, and Blaine felt himself start to spurt when he realized that Kurt was teasing his own nipples as Blaine stroked him to orgasm.

After they came, Kurt turned toward Blaine and they kissed and cuddled close. Blaine glanced over Kurt's shoulder and looked at the time. "Get in the shower, Angel. I promised to answer the door for breakfast."

Kurt bit his shoulder gently. "Yes, you did. I should have made you promise to clean us both up, too. I don't feel like getting out of bed."

"Well, if you don't mind people seeing you all flushed and naked, I'll just open the door when the knock comes."

Kurt made a face at him, dropped a quick kiss on Blaine's lips, and scrambled toward the bathroom. "Quick, wash your hands and put something on before I get in the shower."

***  
They spent most of the day around the Piazza San Marco. The tour of the Doges' Palace in the morning led them through grand rooms, the Senate chamber, and the prison. After grabbing a simple lunch in the piazza and listening to the orchestras at rival cafes, they headed toward San Marco and discovered why Aunt Kent had suggested they stay over a Wednesday. There was a concert in the basilica that evening, and Blaine grinned at how cheap the tickets were.

They decided to wait to see the basilica and headed to do a little shopping before hitting the Museo Correr on the other side of the Piazza. There was a shoe store with extraordinary handmade items, including a pair of heels shaped liked gondolas. Nearby there was a mask store, and the shop keeper spoke enough English to share with them the history and characters behind the blank visages. When Kurt found out that traditional Venetian masks were papier mache rather than leather, he knew he'd found their gift for Rachel. She ended up with a Bauta from both of them, a plague doctor from Blaine, and a zanni from Kurt. The store packed them well and agreed to mail them to her.

After the museum and a simple dinner at one of the little pizza places -- and they both knew pizza wasn't Venetian -- they headed back to the basilica with their tickets.

Kurt's jaw dropped as he entered. The mosaics seemed to dance against their golden backdrop because the huge central fixtures were lit entirely with candles. "They never electrified it?"

Blaine glanced around. "No, it looks like some parts have electricity, but I imagine running it through the domes without hurting the mosaics would have been impossible."

"It feels like we're in another world, another century."

They found seats and Blaine rested his hand on Kurt's knee while he tried to read the program. Kurt squeezed his fingers and whispered, "Am I reading this right?"

"I speak German, not Italian."

"I thought you took Latin, too."

Blaine nodded.

"And if my French cognates are working... this piece that the organist is ending with was written by Vivaldi who…?"

Blaine dug his Latin out of his brain and said, "I think it says he was the kappellmeister -- um, director of music would probably be the closest in English -- here in the late seventeenth century. And the organ has been …?"

"Restored. I'm pretty sure that word is 'restored.' Blaine, I think it says the organ he'll be playing is the one Vivaldi himself played."

"Yeah, that's what I get from it, too."

Kurt sighed. "Imagine what it must mean for the organist, to play a three hundred year old instrument that was actually touched by the composer."

Blaine could see tears welling in Kurt's eyes, and he clasped his boyfriend's hand tightly.

"What are we going to get your Aunt Kent? Nothing is going to be good enough for the woman who understands _this_."

"Honestly, send her the program and a letter about why it meant so much, and she'd probably be happier than with anything else we could find."

A man came up and stood in front of the altar. He made a speech in Italian about the setting, the program, and the organist before standing aside and letting the first strains of Widor's Toccata from Symphony 5 ring through the basilica.

When the concert was over they walked back to their hotel slowly through alleys.

Blaine said, "I think we should go back and find a vaporetto stop. I'm completely lost."

Kurt smiled and said, "This way."

Twice more they came to piazzettas -- the second one had strains of classical guitar sounding around them -- twice more Kurt said, "This way."

As they came to a tiny bridge over an even tinier canal, Blaine dug in his heels and said, "Are you sure? You didn't even look at a map."

Kurt laughed. “Blaine, honey, I'm following the signs. We're next to the Accademia, right?"

"Yes. Signs?"

Kurt pointed; about twenty feet up there was an arrow pointing toward Accademia bridge, and Blaine's laughter joined Kurt's.

***  
Ravenna was another winning suggestion of Aunt Kent’s.

The little city had an inexpensive bed and breakfast right across the street from the train station. The room had the tiniest bathroom unit, Kurt had ever seen. The shower was a hole in the floor with a shower curtain that wrapped out from a fixture attached to the shower head like a halo. The sink was to the right of the floor drain, and the toilet, with what Blaine had finally worked out was a bidet attachment, was to the left. It made the little bathroom in their room in Venice look like a full service spa.

The room was fine, not exactly sumptuous, but private and intimate. They elected to get the room without breakfast because they’d found the pastry shop next door even before the hotel.

They spent most of the day wandering through the town. San Apollinaire Nuovo was near the center of town, and, from there, they followed signs to the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia. At San Vitale, there were signs up for a concert that evening.

Blaine looked at Kurt and said, “I know ecclesiastical music isn’t exactly your thing.”

Kurt smiled and gave a half shrug. “I think hearing plain and Gregorian chants sung by monks in a 1500 year old church is too special to miss. Besides, it’s less than five dollars. When else will we have the chance?”

Blaine grinned and took his hand as they explored the grounds looking for a place to picnic. They sat quietly writing postcards and sketching after they ate.

Finally, Blaine said, “What are the plans? I know there are some other things to see here, but...”

“I checked the train times. It’s an hour to either Ferrara or Bologna. You pick which one we see first. We can spend some pretty long days in either city.”

“I was thinking, we’ve been travelling and sightseeing pretty steadily for the better part of three weeks. There’s a bus to the beach. We could see San Apollinaire in Classe and then just spend a day relaxing. This hotel is cheap enough, and I bet a beach town would have more restaurant options on a Sunday.”

“So do Bologna or Ferrara tomorrow?”

Blaine nodded. “Do the other city on Monday and just take a day to veg on Sunday.”

“I can’t believe we’ve gone from the North Sea to the Adriatic in such a short time.” Kurt inclined his head. “I think it sounds like a plan. So, which tomorrow?”

“Bologna.” Blaine lay back on the rain poncho Kurt had spread out for their picnic and put his head in Kurt’s lap. “Then if we want to go back to it or Ferrara we can take Tuesday and head to Florence a day later than we’d planned.”

“As long as we’re in Rome by Saturday per Aunt Kent. What’s the treat for that one?”

Blaine grinned. “Apparently, the museums at the top of the Capitoline hill are open on Saturday nights. It lets us get some more museums in _and_ gives us a great sunset view of the city.”

Kurt smiled and stroked Blaine’s forehead. “I think that’s a nice treat.”

***  
Late in the afternoon on Saturday, just before they left Bologna feeling completely exhausted, they stopped at an internet cafe to check their messages and do quick updates on Facebook.

Blaine was uncharacteristically quiet afterward. On the train, Kurt decided to let his boyfriend’s mood pass. He pulled out his camera and edited the shots he’d taken that day, eliminating the ones that weren’t good so he’d have more room on the memory card. He wrote a couple of postcards and was happy to pull into Ravenna. They could sleep late tomorrow before catching a bus out to San Apollinaire in Classe and the beach.

They fell asleep with more distance between them than usual, but when he woke up the next morning, Kurt was happy to find his shoulder being used as Blaine’s pillow. He felt so much joy in these quiet moments.

When Blaine awoke, there weren’t any kisses. He went to the bathroom and got ready for the day. Kurt watched him, appreciating the view as always, but concerned.

The morning went badly. The bus was late. There was a service going on when they got to the basilica. Both their moods got testier, and after they’d finally seen the basilica, Kurt told Blaine he had a headache and was heading back to the hotel on the next bus. “Maybe a little time apart would be good for us.”

“That seems to be your solution for everything,” Blaine said.

“What does that mean? I’m not the one who practically fell out of bed trying to put space between us last night.”

“Why would you need to? You’re already putting distance between us at school.”

Kurt looked at Blaine, puzzled. “This can’t still be about my going back to McKinley.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “This is about getting my roommate assignment from Oberlin. His name is Vincent Humphries and he comes from Duluth, Minnesota.”

“I get a single as part of my scholarship.”

“And you could have turned it down, asked for me as roommate.” His eyes were pleading.

Kurt said, “We talked about it.”

“I thought I’d changed your mind.” Blaine’s face fell.

Kurt closed his eyes. “My Dad hasn’t asked for many things from us. He respects our relationship. He asked me to make my own friends my first year, really experience college. Not just be half of a couple.”

“Half of a couple.” The anger was back.

“Because we’ll have that for the rest of our lives,” Kurt said softly. “Blaine-and-Kurt or Kurt-and-Blaine depending on which way someone meets us first. You have friends from Dalton. I have friends from McKinley, and there’s a lot of overlap by now. But once we’re living together, we’re going to be a unit -- even more than we are now.”

Blaine asked, “Is that so bad?”

“I don’t think so. But I trust my Dad. He thinks we should do this, so I accepted the single. I told you I was going to.”

“I know.” Blaine sounded defeated. “It just didn’t really hit me until I saw his name. I’m in Kahn Hall which at least gets me on the sustainable side.”

Kurt cupped Blaine’s chin. “I’m in North Hall. We’re not leaving each other. We’ve both worked for this.”

“I’ve gotten so selfish. I get to wake up beside you every morning, and I hate that it won’t happen at school.”

Kurt nodded. “We’ll figure it out. I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear...”

“You were. I just -- hoped, I guess.”

“Do you still want to go to the beach,” Kurt asked.

“What would you like to do?”

“Maybe hit the beach for an hour or two. I’ve never swum in salt water, and then head back.”

“Picnic dinner in our room?” Blaine looked around, but didn’t see anyone. He ventured a soft, quick kiss.

Kurt smiled. “I think that sounds very relaxing.”  
***  
Ferrara fascinated them. The Duke of Este had planned an expansion of the city by building a new city wall before destroying the old one and inviting the Jews who were being persecuted elsewhere into the city. Blaine paid close attention to the urban planning aspects of the change in the city's footprint, and Kurt noted how the residential and business areas had been planned to interact with each other -- the public and private spheres touched closely.

They went on to Florence and found themselves back in a dorm layout with sixteen other guys and a locker for their luggage.

The first of their planned three days was spent waiting in a long line, in spite of Kurt’s waking them early to get breakfast, to get into the Uffizi Gallery. They nearly ran through the Bargello when they left the Uffizi because they were so close to closing time, but they were able to linger at Donatello’s David for a few minutes.

They found a gelateria and shared a peach gelato with prosecco for lunch, and then went to the Accademia. They came out talking about Michelangelo’s prisoners, which had struck them more deeply than his David, and turned down the narrow side street that led to their accommodations. There was a group of boys, none older than they were, blocking the passage. Blaine turned to exit, holding Kurt’s hand tightly, but the boys had filled it in. Neither of them understood the question put to them in Italian.

The one closest to Blaine grabbed for the passport holder around his neck and then the others closed in. The scuffle only took a minute. One of their muggers banged Blaine’s head against the wall, and they fled when he passed out. They had Blaine’s jacket with his wallet in it and the youngest one had managed to get his passport. Kurt still had his passport and debit card because he kept his passport holder under his shirt, but his wallet was taken, too.

The following morning, Blaine woke up to whispers. Kurt was over by a door talking to two other men, one of whom looked like a doctor. He moved, and let out a groan.

Kurt hurried over to him, followed closely by the doctor.

“What happened?”

The doctor said something in Italian, and the other man translated, “What do you remember?”

Blaine blinked. “A bunch of kids blocked us in an alley, then I woke up.” He heard Kurt let out a sigh of relief. He reached out, and Kurt took his hand.

The doctor ran his fingers over Blaine’s head, noted where he got a wince, pulled out a pin light for tracking his eyes, and did a couple of simple reflex tests. He spoke to the man who was translating.

“The doctor wants to MRI your head, but he thinks you’re probably fine. The swelling has come down.”

Blaine nodded gently. “That’s good to know.” He glanced at Kurt.

“I’m just relieved that I got us the travel health insurance, not that I don’t think my dad or Aunt Kent wouldn’t have helped us out, but...”

“My passport.”

The man who spoke English said, “I’m John Pierce from the consulate. Your friend had a photocopy of your passport and your driver’s license on him. When the doctor lets you out of here, stop by the consulate with two photos and you’ll have a re-issued passport in an hour.” He nodded at the two men and left with the doctor.

“How bad is the money?”

Kurt sighed. “We’re all right. I was able to get the credit cards in our wallets cancelled with a little help from Mister Pierce, so any charges they try to run up will be refused. I don’t think they had time to do much damage before I cancelled them. We still have our Eurrail passes. The cash...” he sighed.

“Yeah, I’m sorry.”

Kurt looked at him. “Why? One of us would have needed to pay the hotel bill, and they don’t take credit cards. It was your turn to withdraw cash for incidentals. Losing the money was just bad luck.”

“Still, nearly three hundred Euros puts a dent in our budget for Rome, and I don’t know how much this will cost us.”

“I told you. I got us travel health insurance. The doctor and Mister Pierce both assured me that the hospital will deal directly with the insurance company. We don’t even have a co-pay. So we stay cheap in Rome rather than getting a private room.” He shrugged. “The important thing is I don’t have to spend another night in a hospital worried about you.” He kissed Blaine softly.

“I’m fine, Kurt.”

“I know. Can I leave you while you get your MRI, or do you want me to stay? Everyone made me promise to let them know how you’re doing. There’s an internet cafe nearby.”

“When they take me to get scanned, you can go update. In the meantime, how about I let you win at chess?”

***  
Four hours later, the doctor was clearing Blaine to leave the hospital. He’d found instructions in English about what symptoms would be alarming if they appeared in the next week, and he made certain both Kurt and Blaine read them. They went straight to the consulate where Mister Pierce had been as good as his word.

Kurt got a taxi for them to get back to the train station.

Blaine said, “Are you sure we can afford it?”

“Positive. When I went to the cafe, there were a lot of emails waiting. Your aunt put five hundred dollars into Travelers Cheques and had them waiting for me at American Express. She says it’s a gift, and we’re not to worry about paying it back. Wes and David sent an email saying they were shocked that The Warblers hadn’t given us our graduation present yet.”

“What did they get us?” Blaine sounded a little wary.

“Five nights at a hotel in Rome near the Pantheon.”

“What?”

Kurt shook his head. “I got an extra thirty minutes to Skype with them -- to give it back. They said they’d wanted to get us something for awhile, and this just gave them the opportunity. Essentially each guy who participated paid for about half a night.”

“I suspect Wes really just paid for everything. His family owned about half of Hong Kong before they emigrated.” Blaine sighed. "We have good friends."

“We do. Dad wired a hundred Euros to cover things like replacing your passport and the cab. I didn’t ask for it, and I'll work a few weekends to pay him back." He giggled at a thought. "And Puck offered to send us some Olive Garden gift cards because he and Finn found your gift really useful last summer.”

“Olive Garden.” Blaine smiled. “His heart’s in the right place.”

“I can’t believe he used to dumpster me. We have enough to find a real hotel if there’s still something you want to see in Florence.”

“Honestly, in the words of the Bible, I think we should shake its dust from our sandals.”

Kurt looked at him skeptically.

“I was brought up Episcopalian. You’ll get biblical references from time to time. Besides, you really should read the King James version even if it's just as literature.”

Kurt sighed. “You’re right. Besides, I hear the ‘Song of Solomon’ is pretty hot.”

“‘Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth for thy love is sweeter than wine...’ It’s good.”

Kurt laughed as they pulled up to the station. “I certainly like that sentiment.”  
***  
It was early evening when they got to Rome. The hotel welcomed them and recommended a quiet osteria around the corner. They stuck to water, per the doctor's instructions for Blaine, and thoroughly enjoyed their pasta, salad, and fresh fruit.

Over the next several days, they found themselves stopping at the Pantheon as part of their routine. The vast dome fascinated them. Blaine worked out some of the engineering issues in his sketches, and Kurt was fascinated by the way the oculus distributed light to the building.

Blaine wanted to see ecclesiastical Rome, and Kurt didn't fight him when, in addition to spending a day at Vatican City, they took a tour of the catacombs that included Saint John Lateran, Saint Paul Without the Walls, and the Chapel of Quo Vadis.

In return, Blaine agreed to rent a Vespa for the day to get around and Kurt lived out his not so secret Audrey Hepburn fantasies with Blaine riding on the back going from the Borghese Museum to the Barberini Museum, and at sunset following Aunt Kent’s instruction to see the Capitoline hill and its museums on a Saturday evening.

“I feel like I’ve learned more about cities and architecture in the past few days than in my whole life.”

Blaine smiled at him. “The ancient Romans were fantastic engineers. I have to admit, though, I liked Venice better. What was your favorite city?”

“In Italy? Or the whole trip?”

“The trip so far.”

Kurt thought a moment. “It’s going to sound strange, Venice is a really close second and I want to say Salzburg, but I think it was Copenhagen -- just because it was the first time I was surrounded by another language.”

Blaine squeezed his waist from behind and rested his chin on Kurt’s shoulder. “You’re adorable.”


	6. France

It didn’t take much to figure out the route from the train station to the Institut de Touraine. Once there, they were given a place to leave their luggage and given an early afternoon time to return and take their exams for placement in the program. Their living assignments would be made afterward.

They found a place for lunch, returned at the appointed time, and completed the exams. Kurt was placed in a level three course and Blaine in a level one, which is what he’d expected. Both classes would begin the following Monday at 8:30 and would end at 12:30. Two days a week they would have a language lab for an hour and a half in the afternoon and two days a week there were optional culture classes in that same time period. Fridays ended at 12:30, and, the secretary who was explaining all this to them told them, they could miss one Monday out of the four without it costing them their certificate. The missed day would have to be negotiated with their instructor in advance. There was even a very French gesture to emphasize “in advance.”  
They were then introduced to their families. Blaine was staying with Henri and Therese de Saumur, an older couple who informed him in very slow, careful English that they would not be in on the weekends to feed him which was a little disconcerting to hear on a Friday.

Kurt ended up with the Beaucaires: Jean-Marie, his wife Marie-France, and their three children Philippe 16, Madeleine 14, and Sophie who was just turning six.

Both men had fairly nice rooms and, while they weren’t given curfews, there was a discussion about the courtesy of calling before nine to let their host families know if they were going to be out after eleven.

On the first Saturday, Marie-France invited Kurt and Blaine to join her while she shopped at the farmer’s market in the middle of town.

They stopped for coffee and croissants on the way.

Marie-France said, “Blaine, since the de Saumur’s will not be there tomorrow, perhaps you would care to join our family for lunch. You understand, Sunday lunch is the big meal of the week. You will be part of the family with Kurt.”

“That would be great. Um, what can I do to help?”

She thought about it for a moment. “I have already asked Kurt to help the children improve their English. I was hoping that maybe one evening a week the two of you could look after them while my husband and I find ourselves alone.”

Blaine grinned at her. “I know they have sound and light shows at the Chateaux that the students can sign up for. Maybe we could bring them along on those?” He looked at Kurt who nodded a confirmation.

Kurt said, “I was hoping to know the best things to bring for a picnic those evenings.” He smiled toward Marie-France, “And Blaine and I were planning to ask our profs for Monday the fifteenth as our excused day to go to Paris.”

 _“Non, pas le quinze juillet.”_ Marie-France said, “It is an expensive weekend in Paris and too many things are disarranged because people go out of the city for the Bastille day. We have very good fireworks and dancing here. If you will take my recommendation, you should go the week after. Or next weekend, but I would hope you’d stay for that. It’s the garlic festival.”

Kurt looked at Blaine.

Blaine said, “I like the idea of a small town Bastille day. I hadn’t even thought about that. Which weekend we go to Paris is up to you. But a man who likes local foods and local traditions as much as you seem to, probably shouldn’t miss the garlic festival.”

Kurt smiled and turned to Marie-France. “We’re happy to take your advice. Do you know a good, not too expensive hotel in Paris?”

“I might have an idea,” she said, “but first, you must help me shop for Sunday lunch. You like regional specialties? I must see how I can accommodate.”  
***  
Kurt found living in a small city in France to be exhilarating. Marie-France introduced him to a simple breakfast of _fromage frais_ and whole grain bread with coffee. He bought fresh fruit, something different each day, at a small _alimentation_ on the way for his and Blaine’s morning break.

Lunch was soup or a sandwich or salad at one of the little cafes nearby before they went back to school for their language labs. Kurt was thrilled to find that his accent was pretty good for an American, and disappointed that his vocabulary was nowhere near as wide as most of the Europeans in his class.

The cultural activities were fun. There was a cooking class one day and another on regional wines. Other sessions included discussions of French history and how the Loire Valley was shaped by it.

Afterward, he had about two hours with Blaine to explore the town and walk home. On Tuesday and Thursday, they invited the Beaucaire kids to meet them outside the school to explore the town and have English conversation.

From the way Philippe rolled his eyes when his sister tried to talk about soccer, Kurt was pretty sure that Madeleine had never shown the least interest in the sport before. Sophie, on the other hand, was an energetic tomboy who liked to talk to Kurt more than she did Blaine or her siblings. Kurt divided himself between Philippe's more formal conversation and Sophie’s enthusiasms while watching his boyfriend be completely clueless about Madeleine’s burgeoning crush.

Wednesday evening was the first of the chateau trips. The Beaucaire kids came along, but Sophie had great fun correcting Blaine’s French while Madeleine and Philippe discussed the history and gardens of [Villandry](http://www.chateauvillandry.fr/en/) with Kurt.  
On the other afternoons, he and Blaine wandered through the city. They found the organist practiced at the Cathedral on Fridays, and they listened to the glorious music surrounding them, resounding off the walls. There was the heady scent of the damask roses that grew on large bushes by the Loire, and the mingled sharpness of rosemary with cedar and acacia in the Cathedral’s garden. They had so few moments alone -- none in private, really -- that they took a risk the first Friday and found a niche behind a large bush draped with honeysuckle where they kissed passionately, and Kurt got the knees of his favorite jeans grimy from taking Blaine in his mouth.

The following Saturday evening, after spending the day learning all about garlic at the garlic festival, Kurt and Blaine offered to stay with the children while Marie-France and Jean-Marie went out to dinner. When the parents returned, they found Madeleine and Philippe had taught the Americans Ceroc -- Blaine had taken a West Coast Swing class while he was at Dalton, so he picked up the similar style very quickly -- and the four of them were dancing around the living room.

Marie-France double kissed Blaine’s cheek as he left.

Blaine said, “I feel like I’m prepared for the Bastille Day dance, now,” as he left to return to the empty de Saumur apartment.

Jean-Marie was listening to Madeleine and Philippe talking about Kurt’s cooking when she came back to the living room, and Kurt was quietly cleaning up the very little bit of mess they’d made.

“Your Blaine is very polite.”

Kurt smiled softly. “He is.”

***  
Two nights later, Jean-Marie answered the door to Blaine, who’d come over to get a notebook from Kurt, and said, " _Helas, mes gosses._ "

Blaine could hear the raised voices in the other room, but Kurt's voice was calm even if Blaine couldn't follow all the various torrents of French.

As he walked into the room, he noticed Marie-France was sharing a look of amusement with Kurt, so he didn't think there were any major problems.

Madeleine walked up to him and said, " _Es-tu homosexuel?_ "

Kurt started to open his mouth, but Blaine shook his head and said, dryly, "I understood that one. _Oui._ "

" _Est Kurt ton petit ami?_ "

Blaine checked with Kurt. " _Petit ami_ means boyfriend, right?"

Kurt nodded.

Blaine took a deep breath and thought out his next sentence. " _Il est plus. Il est le mari de mon coeur._ "

Kurt said, “Blaine, I think you may have said that wrong.”

“Did I say that you’re the husband of my heart?”

Kurt nodded.

“Then I said exactly what I meant.” Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine could see Marie-France touching her hand to her heart, smiling gently at them both.

Apparently it was the right thing to say because Madeleine came over and greeted him properly with a double cheek kiss.

Little Sophie shook her head and said, " _Bien sur._ Kurt is most happy with Monsieur Blaine." She turned to Kurt. "You will still marry me when I grow up."

" _Helas, ma petite, la loi dis un epoux seulement,_ " Kurt said.

Sophie thought about it. "Then I will look for another like you."

Kurt still looked a little dazed, and Blaine leaned over and kissed him quickly on the lips -- their first time being demonstrative in front of the Beaucaires. No one seemed uncomfortable with the gesture.

"Kurt, you will join me in the kitchen?" Marie-France asked.

"Certainly."

Once there, Marie-France turned to him. "You should have told us. We would have made certain you had time alone with your Blaine, just as you give time alone to me and my husband."

"I... My father allows us to be alone in my room, but it isn't usual for American families. I guess I was afraid it might set a bad example."

"Ah. _Je le comprend._ The puritans of America are famous." She smiled sweetly. "Tomorrow night you take the children to the _Son et Lumiere_ at Chenonceau, yes? Jean-Marie and I will have them out of your way in the afternoon, and we will meet at _l'Institut_ in time for the bus."

Kurt took her hand and squeezed it affectionately. "That is very kind."

Blaine poked his head in. "I need to get back to the de Saumur's. Are we still taking the kids to Chenonceau with us tomorrow?"

"Yes, but we'll meet them at the bus. I'll explain it better tomorrow."

"See you then, Angel." He kissed Kurt quickly and headed off.

Marie-France laughed quietly. "It must be true love, if he thinks a devil like you could be an angel."

***  
As soon as the door to Kurt's room shut behind them, Blaine captured his mouth in a needy kiss, then he pushed Kurt back and began to strip hurriedly.

Kurt watched him appreciatively and removed his shirt, shoes, and socks.

Blaine pushed back the covers and arranged the pillows so that he was comfortable before lying down and pulling his knees to his chest. “I need you to fuck me, right now.”

Kurt knelt and mouthed at the root of his cock, reaching for the lube that he’d left handy. Two fingers breached Blaine roughly, and Kurt stopped as he heard his lover growl with need. He added more lube and pressed up eliciting a gasp of pure pleasure before he withdrew, and used three fingers to spread the wetness more deeply.

“Now, Angel, please.”

Kurt hurried to push down his jeans. He spread some lube on his cock and pushed into Blaine’s waiting body. He stopped to allow Blaine a moment to accept him, but Blaine wrapped his legs around Kurt’s hips and pressed him deeper into his body.

“I want to feel you when I sit down tomorrow.”

He looked at Blaine for a moment and gave a wicked smile. He nipped at Blaine’s bottom lip and ground his cock into his lover’s ass. When Blaine threw his head back and moaned, Kurt snapped his hips forward and set up a pounding rhythm, making certain to hit Blaine’s prostate on every stroke.

Neither of them lasted long. Blaine kept pulling Kurt in tighter with his legs, and Kurt finally slid Blaine’s legs up higher and sped up his thrusts until he heard Blaine howl out his orgasm.

Kurt came hard. He slipped out of Blaine’s body and brought a damp washcloth to clean them both up before lying down beside him and being held close. “I’d planned to be more romantic than that.”

Blaine kissed him sloppily. “I’ve wanted you so badly. This was perfect.”

“Good.” Kurt set a reminder on his phone, and they drifted off to sleep.

 

***  
The band set up loudly in the middle of the town square. Streets had been blocked off and a portable floor laid over the cobbles. Some of the music was French. Some were classics, usually from the Beatles era, but a few older. Everyone danced. Kurt started with Sophie while Blaine danced with Madame de Saumur, then with Marie-France. Kurt danced with Madeleine before passing her off to Blaine. After dancing with them, she went over to join a group of her school friends who were all looking at Blaine with hearts in their eyes.

The band wasn’t bad, but when they started to sing American pop-tunes that Kurt recognized he winced at their pronunciation of English, and fervently hoped his accent in French sounded better.

When they started on “Teenage Dream,” Kurt watched Blaine march right up to them and threaten to unplug their amps. All he could hear was Blaine saying, “ _Je sais mon francais est mauvaise._

Kurt finally went over and helped with translation, and before the dancers could get too restless, the band started over with Blaine singing the lead. Madeleine’s friends were impressed and Philippe was apparently making time with a girl on the basis of knowing Blaine, if Kurt was reading the gestures and body language correctly.

For the rest of the evening, the band played all the songs in French and let Blaine, and, occasionally, Kurt, sing anything that came up in English. In between times, Blaine and Kurt danced with Madeleine and her friends and took a few turns with Sophie as well.

The fireworks went off without a hitch, and Jean-Marie and Marie-France took a sleepy Sophie home right afterwards. They asked Blaine and Kurt to make certain Philippe and Madeleine got home safely when the dancing was over.

The band played more upbeat songs for about an hour after the fireworks with Blaine and Kurt continuing to cover the English songs. Finally, around eleven-thirty, the songs got slower. Blaine convinced the guitar player to do “Blackbird,” and Kurt sang it. From then on, the songs were in French, and not too much later the final song was announced.

Usually, when they danced together Blaine led, but tonight Kurt felt Blaine’s hand on his shoulder and responded by pulling Blaine close by his waist. As the band played _“La Vie En Rose”_ , they moved together, cheeks brushing. Madeleine and her friends grabbed their partners and danced near Kurt and Blaine, forming, with Philippe and his new friend, a perimeter around them, protecting them from anyone who would be so _gauche_ as to make an indelicate remark.

The music ended and Kurt and Blaine gave Madeleine and Philippe a little space to say their goodbyes to their friends before calling them together to walk home.

They stopped in front of the seventeenth century building that housed the de Saumur apartment. Kurt walked Blaine to the door and gave him a slow, soft, longing kiss. Blaine whimpered when their lips parted and pulled Kurt back in. They rested their foreheads against each other, and Blaine said, “I have a whole weekend in a Paris hotel with you. We may not actually make it to the Louvre.”

Kurt kissed his cheek and said, “We can give up _Les Invalides_ , but not the Louvre. And it’s three whole nights together. I’m sure we’ll just end up playing chess.”

Blaine laughed softly and kissed Kurt on the nose. “Uh-huh. Go on before those two get restless.”

Kurt wiped his nose and turned back to Madeleine and Philippe.

Madeleine took his hand and said, “I think you enjoyed the walk home more than the fireworks.”

***  
Marie-France was instrumental in helping the two boys make decisions about their weekend in Paris. From telling them to eat breakfast at a café because it was cheaper than the extra the hotels charged if they paid the higher rate for breakfast included, to suggesting a good route to let them visit as many of the sights they wanted to see as possible, she had been a solid confidant and advisor.

They had decided to stay at the [Hotel Dieu](http://www.hotel-hospitel.com/ang/accueil.htm) and take the latest TGV back on the Monday night rather than be tired and out of sorts trying to make it in time for class by traveling Tuesday morning.

So when Marie-France asked if she could accompany them on the train, both of them were whole hearted in their enthusiasm. It also helped that by having her along, Jean-Marie agreed to pick them up from school and make an earlier train.

Her reason for going was the Hermés sale. Once a year, all the big fashion houses put the previous year's collections on sale. It was usually in the summertime, not every house did it at the same time, and certain "friends" of the house were told in advance when the sale would occur. Her college friend, Anouk, was a friend to [Hermés](http://www.hermes.com/index_us.html), and the sale would begin on the Friday they were heading to Paris.

Blaine took one look at Kurt's face and said, "Would it be all right if we joined you and Anouk?"

"I had planned on it. But you must promise that neither of you will purchase gloves." Marie-France had a twinkle in her eye as she said it.

Kurt grinned, "But that still leaves belts and maybe scarves. I doubt we'll be able to afford actual clothes."

"You may be surprised. I have, some years, been able to buy an evening dress when I thought I could only afford a handkerchief."

***  
Anouk proved to be charming over their simple lunch. Afterward, the four of them started off at the [Caron Boutique](http://www.parfumscaron.com/en/caron-stores.php) in the Faubourg Saint-Honoré..

Marie-France smiled apologetically. "I am nearly out of my scent, but Kurt, you are interested in interiors, and I think the shop with its urns might interest you, no?"

The shop most certainly interested Kurt. The huge crystal urns filled with scents were so unusual, but he also noticed how Blaine blended in to the expensive atmosphere. Kurt had learned quite quickly at Dalton that some of the attitudes he'd associated with money were really the insecurities of people who'd never had it. Wes and Blaine were old wealth and watching them had opened his eyes to many things. David had even sat him down one day and given him a tutorial.

Here Blaine's carriage marked him as comfortable in the hushed luxury surrounding them. Every salesgirl in the store gravitated to him.

Marie-France followed his eyes and rolled her eyes at the women around Blaine. She motioned Kurt over to sniff the scents and help her select a new perfume bottle. Madeleine was going to be given her first expensive perfume for her seventeenth birthday. Between them, they settled on a tiny vial and filled it with Farnesiana. Marie-France had her own bottle refilled with a mix of two scents, and the salesman gave her samples of aftershaves which she shared with Kurt and Blaine.

At Hermés, Kurt was in his element. The store was as nearly overcrowded with merchandise as a store in the Faubourg Saint-Honoré could be. He went over the racks with a practiced eye and began looking for bargains.

Blaine walked over with a wool overcoat in a silver gray shade. "I think it might be a little long for me, but it's a gorgeous coat."

Kurt nodded. "Unfortunately, it turns your skin a little ashy." His eyes lit up as he saw something on the rack behind Blaine. He reached across his boyfriend and pulled out a double breasted camel coat. "This shade is perfect for you."

It took five minutes of convincing, including the combined efforts of Marie-France and Anouk, but at the end of it Kurt pulled out the credit card he kept for gifts -- which had been replaced since the theft in Florence -- and bought two fabulous coats. The silver one had fit him perfectly.

As they headed up to the Grands Magasins on Boulevard Haussman, Marie-France wandered from one side of the street to the other as different items caught her fancy. "At least I can taste the glass," she said.

A few minutes of giggling conversation later, and they established that she'd literally translated the French idiom for window shopping, a pastime Kurt wholeheartedly approved of.

There was one antique shop they stopped in front of longer than the others. Marie-France's eye had been caught by an iridescent vase in an unusual shade of coppery-blue. She smiled at them. "Some day it will be sold, I know, but I fell in love with it the first time I saw it while I was with Sophie."

"Sophie came with you to Paris?"

"No, I was with her." This time the gesture indicated pregnancy quite clearly to Kurt and Blaine who nodded their understanding.

Kurt caught Blaine's eye and raised his brow. Blaine gave a brief smile and wrote down the name and address of the shop while Kurt distracted Marie-France.  
***  
Anouk had driven them to the entrance to the hotel after they got Marie-France back to the train. She told them to meet her for an early lunch on Monday and she would take them through apartments all over Paris -- including one in the Marais and another in the Palais Royale district. "After all, I have been told you want to see architecture from the inside."

"You're a realtor?" Blaine asked

"Yes. Marie-France said you would like to see something authentic of Parisian life. How better?"

Kurt smiled at her. "How better, indeed. Thank you."  
***  
Once Anouk left, they elected to stop at an internet café where Blaine emailed Aunt Kent to see if she knew the shop on the Faubourg Saint-Honoré where Marie-France had seen the vase. If she had a relationship with it, they might get a better price. They'd already discussed gifts for the kids with their parents, but they wanted to do something especially nice for the Beaucaires because of all the support they'd given.

Afterward, they headed to the [Monument aux deportés](http://www.virtualtourist.com/travel/Europe/France/Ile_de_France/Paris-99080/Things_To_Do-Paris-La_Memorial_des_Martyrs_de_La_Deportation-BR-1.html) which their former teacher, Mr. Maugham, had suggested and then to Notre Dame. Dinner was simple, and the walked around the Ile de la Cité and the Ile Saint Louis before going back to the hotel.

The next day was spent at the Musée d'Orsay and the Musée Rodin before changing for dinner. Blaine had made a reservation at the [Jules Verne](http://www.lejulesverne-paris.com) right after he accepted Burt's offer to join Kurt for the summer, and Kurt was thrilled to be eating on the Eiffel Tower.

They walked back to the hotel, enjoying the long summer sunset and the achingly beautiful twilight as they crossed the Seine.

When they got up to their room, Blaine pulled Kurt to him and began kissing his way up Kurt's neck, opening his shirt and shucking as many of his own clothes as he could. Kurt picked up his heat and helped him get them both naked as quickly as possible before he was laid back on the bed and nipped and tasted and savored by Blaine's mouth and hands.

Kurt relaxed into the fingers that probed at him and smiled up at his lover. Blaine's eyes were filled with such love and awe, that Kurt raised up to him and kissed him delicately, reverently. He could feel Blaine moving against him, and he opened himself to allow Blaine to enter. He wrapped his legs around his lover's hips and pulled him deeper into his body.

Blaine moved slowly, dragging his cock against Kurt's sweet spot, making him beg for more. Kurt curled his fingers into Blaine's shoulders, raking his back. He was surprised when Blaine smiled and began to move faster. Another deep kiss, and Blaine slowed down again until Kurt's nails dug into his biceps. Once again, Blaine thrust harder, and Kurt locked his legs and rolled Blaine onto his back.

He rode his lover hard, leaning forward to suck hickeys across Blaine's chest, biting his shoulders, reveling in his moans. Kurt came hard spattering across the marks he'd left on Blaine's body, and Blaine drove up hard before coming, too.

"I'm sorry, Lover."

"Why?"

Kurt stroked Blaine's chest lightly and said, "I think I drew blood."

"It felt so good. I like wearing your marks. It feels like I belong to you."

Kurt got up and cleaned himself off in the bathroom and brought back a damp cloth to take care of Blaine.

"When you fuck me, you clean me afterward. When I fuck you, you clean me afterward," Blaine said.

Kurt smiled. "I like taking care of you. You deserve to be cherished." He put the cloth in the ashtray on the nightstand and lay back on the pillow. He pulled Blaine's head to his shoulder and tugged the covers over them both.

"I feel cherished." There was a long pause. Blaine said, "We have a layover at Dulles. We could change our ticket, make it a couple of days, go up to DC."

"We could."

"If I asked you, would you?"

Kurt kissed Blaine's temple. "I agree with Mister Maugham. Some questions can't be answered in the conditional tense."

"Is that 'no'?"

"How can it be? You haven't really asked." He held Blaine more tightly. "Let me ask you something. We've been teammates. We're friends, companions," he kissed the back of Blaine's neck and whispered, "lovers. Are you ready to add husband?"

He felt Blaine take a deep breath, and the pause lengthened. Finally, Kurt continued, "I know we will, one day. I expect that we'll get on a plane the day after we graduate and go to a state where we can make our relationship official. But, right now, I want to take Dad's advice and get to know who I am at college for a bit."

Blaine let out a deep sigh and turned in Kurt's arms to face him. "I respect Burt. I know he's probably right. And, while I know I want you for the rest of our lives, 'husband' is a huge word."

"You called me the 'husband of your heart.' You're mine, too. I love you. Even if you are a bit kinky."

Blaine raised himself up so he could look into Kurt's eyes. "Angel, you love the kinks."

Kurt grinned up at him and nodded before pulling him into a deep kiss. "I do."

Blaine settled against his lover's body, and kissed Kurt's ear before whispering, "I love you, too."

***  
They asked Marie-France as soon as they returned from Paris if it would be all right for them to do an American picnic for their final Sunday lunch in Tours. She declared herself charmed by the idea, and Kurt enlisted her help with ingredients -- including asking the poulterer to cut the chickens into parts the American way rather than the French one when they went marketing on Saturday.

Madeleine and Sophie offered to help in the kitchen. Kurt suspected Madeleine still had a crush on Blaine, but she seemed to respect them as a couple too. Blaine and Philippe set up tables in the back garden. In addition to the usual Sunday lunch group of Marie-France's sister and mother, Blaine, Kurt, and the Beaucaires, Jean-Marie's brother and his family were going to attend and the de Saumurs were staying in town and had been invited.

Blaine came in and helped fry the chicken since he'd done it before. Kurt gave Sophie and Madeleine instructions for the ice-box pickles and the biscuit dough needed for the blackberry cobbler -- the peaches just hadn't been ripe enough yet. While the chicken cooled, Blaine made potato salad from a recipe his mother liked which used lots of dill, and Kurt prepared a shredded carrot salad, cold avocado soup for an appetizer, and a poppy seed coleslaw.

When the guests started to arrive, Kurt sliced some tomatoes as the last side dish. He gave Sophie a tray with glasses of the avocado soup to take out back and snuck up to his room to change and fix his hair before joining the party.

It was a lovely afternoon. Blaine taught Sophie American football and they played a tag version of it and some soccer after lunch. Kurt conversed with everyone, apologizing for his vocabulary when he forgot or didn't know a word. Everyone complimented him on the meal, and the blackberry cobbler was pronounced perfect by Sophie who also declared she had made it.

The sun was still high, but it was already after eight in the evening when the guests began to leave. Marie-France asked the de Saumurs if Blaine could stay for a little while, and the older couple agreed.

She found Kurt and Blaine putting away the last of the food. There wasn't too much left, and she helped them with the last little bits.

"I know you will remain until next Saturday, but this may be the last time we are all together, and I think Sophie cannot wait."

Kurt looked at her fondly. "Wait for what?"

"There are gifts to say goodbye," Marie-France said.

Blaine shared a look with Kurt. "Give us just a minute, we have something for you, too."

Kurt said, "You know where I hid them. Go on."

Blaine ran out and came back down to the living room with a box and several envelopes. He handed the envelopes to each of the children.

Madeleine's had a pair of earrings that Kurt had seen and thought were perfect for her. They were genuine art nouveau in rose gold with mother of pearl, and Madeleine thanked them both profusely for it.

Sophie was thrilled to have tickets to a professional soccer game. She hugged Kurt, even though it was Blaine who had suggested her gift, and said, "I will ask Philippe to go. He likes football, too."

Philippe said formally, "I accept. Thank you for thinking of your brother." He opened his envelope to find a guitar pick.

Blaine said, "The guitar's upstairs. I found one second hand that had with a good tone, and we made certain your parents approved."

Philippe kissed both boys on each cheek. "You listened to me."

"Blaine said he can teach you a few basic chords before we leave." Kurt smiled at him, and Sophie climbed on his lap.

Sophie said, "I don't want you to go."

"I promise, one Sunday a month we will make time to speak on Skype. Even with seven time zones in the way, I want to keep in touch." Kurt was rewarded with another hug. He smiled at Blaine and nodded toward the large box.

Blaine handed it to Jean-Marie and told him to be careful unwrapping what was inside. Marie-France sat by her husband and gasped when she saw the vase. It was one she'd commented on when they were looking at the antique shop in Paris.

 _"C'est trop,"_ she said.

Blaine kissed her cheek. "My Aunt Kent knew the shop and was able to help with the owner. It is not at all _trop_ for all the kindness your family has shown us."

Kurt was ever practical. "There's museum putty and some weights in the bottom of the package to help it stay in place -- so you don't have to worry with this one running around." He inclined his head toward Sophie.

"It is lovely. Oh, I must not forget. Madeleine, get the presents for Kurt and Blaine."

She came back a moment later with two large flat boxes with the Hermes logo.

Blaine's held a heavy silk twill scarf in a masculine cut. The twill was dark brown with a pale green thread worked in. There was a pair of buttery-soft dark brown gloves lined with a celery green cashmere in the box, too.

Marie-France said, "Remember, the sales were on. It was not as dear as it seems."

Kurt's gloves were navy with a white silk lining. His scarf was a large square in blues and greens ranging from a pale aquamarine to a deep midnight. It was absolutely stunning, and something he would have selected for himself. He scooted Sophie over and got up and kissed Marie-France on both cheeks. "They're perfect. They go with our new coats, and it's obvious that you took much time and care to select these so well. Thank you."

Blaine kissed her cheeks as well. "You have excellent taste. Thank you."

Kurt gave him a flirtatious smile. "I can't wait to see you wear that scarf. I bet it brings out all the green in your eyes."

Blaine grinned back at him. "It's the first time I remember looking forward to winter."

***  
The scene at the train station the following week was sad. Jean-Marie drove their luggage to the station and the rest of the family walked with them. Kurt had passed with a level III certificate which would get him into the advanced French he wanted to take in college, and Blaine managed to get his level I certificate which meant he'd fulfilled his foreign language requirement.

There were hugs all around and tears from Sophie when she had to let go of Kurt. The first Skype Sunday was already scheduled for right after they got back.

When the train finally pulled out of the station, Blaine took Kurt's hand and held it close. "I've been so lucky to have a summer with you."

"We've been all over Europe -- well through the middle of it at least -- and a summer with me is all you can say."

Blaine brought their hands up and kissed the back of Kurt's. "That's been the important part. None of these experiences would have meant anything, if I hadn't had you to share them with."

Kurt sighed and rested his head on Blaine's shoulder. "You really are the romantic in this relationship." He kissed the back of Blaine's hand. "And I feel the exact same way."


	7. The Mistakes of Freshman Year

Kurt’s advisor was an energetic young professor named MacIntyre. He had two drawbacks. The first was, he hated advising and only took the minimum number of students required by the college in order to stay on his tenure track, and he thought freshmen were idiots. Kurt could cut him some slack on the second one -- half the time he _felt_ like an idiot these days -- but MacIntyre’s complete inability to listen to his reasoning about why he had chosen his classes and why he was taking the full course load was infuriating.

He’d finally called Mister Caldwell to ask his opinion of the courses he’d selected, made a couple of changes at the other man’s suggestion, and threatened MacIntyre with steel-toed Doc Martens in sensitive areas to get him to sign his schedule.

It was a tough course load and although they were both taking Calculus 133, he and Blaine were in different modules of it to make their other courses fit into their schedules. There was so much to do on campus. He decided not to try to join one of the dining cooperatives right away -- especially since his regular meal plan would be covered -- but Kurt threw himself into campus life with a will.

For the first couple of weeks, he saw Blaine for breakfast most days. By midterms, though, they both had too little time to get together. When midterms were over other things came up.

The Sunday before Thanksgiving an IM window popped up while Kurt was doing some research for his Sociology paper on social stratification in cities. He nearly clicked it shut, when he realized it was Blaine.

Rockstar1: We’re grabbing the train in Cleveland at 4.  
Rockstar1: That’s a.m.  
Rockstar1: On Wednesday, so we have to be ready Tuesday night.

Kurt stared at it.  
Epée Tenor: Where are we going?

Rockstar1: Chicago. Thanksgiving. Aunt Kent.

Epée Tenor: When did we decide that?

Rockstar1: Like the last two years. Christmas with your family. Working with Kawalski crew again.

Epée Tenor: I told Mercedes I’d see her at Thanksgiving. Can you get the money back for my ticket?

The pause lasted a long time. Finally a response came.

Rockstar1: Sure.

The window flashed a message that Rockstar1 had signed out.

Kurt sighed and went back to his research.

***  
Wednesday afternoon, he pulled into the driveway in Lima and got a huge hug from Finn who said, “Good to see you, bro. Does Mom know you’re coming?”

“It’s Thanksgiving, Finn.”

“Yeah, so you’re heading to Chicago really late?”

Kurt was confused.

Finn continued, “Mom took the day off to start the cooking. Go on in and say, ‘hi.’”

He gave Finn a side armed hug and went in the house. Carole looked at him in shock and then grinned. “It’s nice to see you. Where’s Blaine?”

“Chicago.”

Carole looked at him. “Has something happened between you?”

Kurt said, “I don’t think so, but I’m beginning to wonder. Is Dad closing early today?”

“Yes, but early is around three. If you want to make some sandwiches, I’m sure he’d love to have lunch with you.”

He kissed her cheek. “That sounds like a great idea.”

When he arrived at Hummel’s Tire and Lube about half an hour later, his Dad was on the lookout for him. Kurt said hello to the guys in the shop, fist-bumped Puck who was in a formal union apprenticeship there, and then took lunch into his Dad’s office.

“I know there will be more tomatoes than meat.” Burt shook his head.

“I added some of that spicy relish I know you like.”

“A little flavor is good.” Burt appraised his son. “Where’s Blaine?”

“With Aunt Kent.”

“Didn’t she invite you?”

Kurt put down the sandwich before he took a bite. “Dad, I think I’ve really fucked up.”

“Did you cheat on him? Lie to him?”

Kurt shook his head. He could feel tears pricking his eyes.

Burt continued, “Belittle him? Insult him? Did you fight? ‘Cause I know you got a temper from me.”

“School’s been so busy. For both of us. I don’t know which one of us was the first to miss a breakfast because we were studying -- we’d planned to have breakfast in the dining hall every day -- but, after I talked to Carole, I realized I hadn’t seen him in three weeks.”

Burt sighed and shook his head. “You’re not usually stupid, Kurt.”

“I know.” Kurt closed his eyes. “I can say ‘he did it, too,’ but he still planned for me to go to Chicago with him. I was so surprised, and then I’d told Mercedes I’d see her at Thanksgiving...”

“Is there a serious problem with Mercedes? Something you could explain to him?”

Kurt shook his head. “I talked to her for an hour just last week. Before our little IM conversation, the last contact I had with Blaine was a text message ten days ago.”

“Aw, Kurt.” Burt got up and walked to the other side of the table and hugged him. He could feel his son’s shoulders shaking as he cried and, just for a moment, Burt thought, “For the last two years, these moments have been Blaine’s.”

A loud sniff came from Kurt, and he reached for a napkin to blow his nose. Burt gave him a quick squeeze and went back to his sandwich.

“What do I do, Dad?”

“There’s weather coming in, so as soon as you’ve finished that sandwich, you’re going to find out if you can get a train ticket from Cincinnati. If you can, then, I’m going to give the guys the rest of the day off, and drive you to the station. He’ll forgive you. The only one more in love than you are is Blaine. He’ll forgive you if you have the guts to ask for it.”

Kurt sniffed and quoted, “Courage.”

“Yeah. God knows, you’ve got that.”

***

Kurt stood dripping in the lobby waiting for the elevator to come down. The doorman was new and kept looking at him skeptically, and, frankly Kurt didn't blame him. He'd been an idiot.

When the elevator arrived, the doorman's back straightened. He said, "Mrs. Fountains, this kid said he was a friend of your nephew's…"

"It's fine, George. Kurt _is_ a friend." She looked at Kurt like he was a worm on the sidewalk, but her expression softened. "Come upstairs," she said.

He picked up his bag and followed her into the elevator. She hit the button for the 37th floor.

"Aunt Kent, Mrs. Fountains, I…"

"Aunt Kent is fine Kurt. How did you get here?"

"Train. I walked from Union Station. There weren't any taxis."

She really looked at him. "Because there's a snow storm. You could have called. I'd have sent a car."

He stared back at her. "I wasn't even sure Blaine would let you answer the phone if he knew it was me."

Aunt Kent shook her head and started to say something when the elevator halted. Kurt let her out first, and he stepped into her apartment behind her being careful not to drip outside the foyer.

Blaine stopped and stared. "Kurt?"

Kurt held his hand up. "I can't promise I'll never make another mistake, but I can promise I won't make this one. I got so caught up in everything that I wasn't just a bad boyfriend, I was a bad _friend_. I love you, and I don't know how I let myself get so distracted from what's important and…"

Blaine just enfolded him in a tight embrace. "I should have called us both on it sooner. I got caught up in things too. Suddenly, it had been three weeks since we'd talked and a month since we'd seen each other, and I don't know how it happened, either." He pressed a kiss to Kurt's lips. "You're so cold. Angel, I think your lips may be bluer than your eyes right now."

"He walked two and a half miles in the snow to get here," Aunt Kent said. "Take him to the back bedroom, lukewarm shower at first and warm it up slowly. If you want to share a room, you can move your stuff back there, too, Blaine."

Blaine reached over and gave her a quick hug, then helped Kurt out of his coat and boots. "I'd like that if Kurt doesn't mind."

"Mind? I may have neglected you, but I've missed you so much. I made a mistake this summer. This time Dad was wrong.” He looked at Blaine through his lashes. “If the administration will let us do it, I’ll switch with Vince. If he’s okay with it."

He took Kurt's hand and led him to the back bedroom. "I'd like that. I think Vince would love a single. That way, even if we don't see each other during the day, we'll still have our nights."

"You can't be a distraction from studying."

"Why not? You always are. I swear your jeans should be illegal."

Aunt Kent heard their voices trail off. She was so glad Kurt was there. Blaine had seemed like an empty shell without him and now he practically filled the apartment he was so bursting with joy. Plus, Kurt was a better cook than she was. It was going to be a good Thanksgiving.  
***

Vincent switched rooms with Kurt so fast that both boys were willing to swear they’d seen little puffs of smoke.

As they put together their schedules for their second semester, they came up with the rules for their next five semesters. The first one was to call if they weren’t going to be home by midnight. The second was to take one class a semester together -- it could be the weight training class they were taking at the gym this semester, or something with more depth to it. The final rule was to have separate creative activities, too.

Blaine was taking a metal working course and auditioned for -- and got a role in -- _The Prisoner of Zenda_. Kurt was putting together a small jazz combo -- they were hoping to get a regular gig at a place near campus -- and was going to fencing meets. Kurt came to Blaine’s rehearsals and volunteered to be the fight coordinator, and Blaine came to the combo’s rehearsals to offer set list suggestions.

The rules meant each man had his own routine, but there was overlap, the beginnings of a life shared.

They also had a chance to talk to each other about different things.

Kurt was being encouraged to train more classically by his voice teacher. Countertenors were, in her opinion rare and wonderful creatures who should be nourished and encouraged. He started singing Purcell and Gluck in addition to Perry and GaGa.

Blaine was taking a couple of ideas he'd had on their Europe trip and trying to design a more efficient wind turbine that wouldn't have as many noise issues. Once he got it right, he thought the scale could be adapted -- small enough for an apartment balcony, or large enough to power an office building.

They talked about their majors, too. Blaine was leaning toward either Musicology or Art History. Kurt was trying to decide among Sociology, Anthropology, or Psychology. Both of them were considering minors in Studio Art

Most importantly, it meant their days began and ended with a kiss.  
***  
Kurt walked into the cast party and greeted friends. He wasn't involved in the production much, just helped coordinate the fight scenes, but the cast and crew were very welcoming -- after all he was Black Michael's boyfriend.

He grabbed a ginger ale, asked after Blaine, and went through the archway that one of the make-up people pointed at. After seeing the tableau on the sofa, he turned on his heel and walked straight out the front door.

Forty minutes later, Blaine entered their dorm suite and found Kurt sitting on their small sofa staring at the door. "I thought you were coming to the party, Angel."

"You're home early." Kurt kept staring in the direction of the door, not really looking at Blaine.

"I wasn't enjoying the party." Blaine hadn't moved from the doorway, frozen by the emotions coming from Kurt. "The guy who plays Rudolf is straight. He dared me to make out with him. It seemed kind of silly, and then all of a sudden it wasn't silly, and I came home."

Kurt finally met his eyes. "Did anyone tell you I was at the party?"

Kurt could read him perfectly, and the surprise was genuine. Blaine closed his eyes and shook his head.

"I took one look at his hand on your thigh… "

"Oh, Angel. I'm so sorry." For the first time, Blaine noticed the glass next to the sofa. "What are you drinking?"

"Bourbon. I had some from that barbecue sauce contest." He took a swig. "If you need someone else, need to know what it's like with another guy, I can live with it. We were each other’s first. You're my only."

"Kurt, you're my only, too."

Kurt continued without really hearing him. "But if you're going to be with someone else, call me first, let me know. I can take it, if I'm prepared. Would a threesome help? I've never really -- I mean I have fantasies, but I've never wanted anyone else, but if you…"

"Angel, no. I don't think I'd be very good in a threesome because I'd be too busy trying to kill the guy who was touching you."

"You are either the smartest or the luckiest bastard in the world. I believe that you didn't know I was there, and you still came home and the first thing you did was tell me. Because if you'd lied or tried to pass it off… Let me be very clear. Jealousy is an ugly emotion, but I own it. I don't want to kill the other guy -- Brian? Ryan?"

"Byron."

"Byron." Kurt's voice dripped acid. "He's not the one who cheated. He was callous, stupid, and is probably in the closet, but _you_ are the one I feel betrayed by." He poured a little more bourbon into the glass and knocked it back. "What made you stop?"

"I'd pushed his hand away a couple of times, and if I took the dare, I should have stopped when I had to push his hand away the first time, but it was -- he'd kept the kissing closed mouthed before. When his tongue went into my mouth, I shoved him away. It was instinctive. He tasted wrong. He wasn't you. I don't want anyone else. When it's just me and my right hand, I'll fantasize about everyone from Buddy Holly to Jimi Hendrix, but you're the only person I've ever really wanted."

"I'm going to sleep on the sofa tonight."

Blaine looked conflicted, but finally decided to respect Kurt's wish. As he walked past the sofa, he heard Kurt whisper, "Just so you know, I'm angry, but I forgave you before you walked in the door."

He stilled and took a deep breath before reaching out to brush the tips of his fingers against the back of Kurt's hand. "Please don't shut me out. I'm terrified that we won't survive this if you do."

Kurt's fingers gripped his for a second. "Go shower, brush your teeth, I don't even want the clothes you have on in the same hamper as everything else."

When Blaine came back, his hair was damp and he had on his glasses. He'd pulled out a fresh t-shirt and pajama pants. He walked over and touched the glass of bourbon. "May I?"

Kurt nodded, and Blaine knocked the drink back. "Disinfectant," he said as he got under the covers.

Kurt went into the bathroom and Blaine heard the shower as well as the usual evening ritual. He came out in a pair of silk boxers and climbed into bed.

Blaine approached him tentatively, but Kurt opened his arms and let his lover curl against his chest holding him close while he cried.

In the morning, while the light was still gray with false dawn, Blaine touched his boyfriend reverently, brushing his lips down Kurt's body, rediscovering tenderness, and healing them both.

Kurt squirted some lube onto Blaine's hand and spread himself open. Blaine prepared him gently. Kurt preferred to top most of the time, and Blaine loved to bottom. But every once in awhile, he'd claim Kurt and Kurt would laugh and let himself be taken.

This was different, more like their very first time, but now that they knew each other's bodies, Blaine knew how to make it good for Kurt -- knew to listen for particular sounds or watch for muscle twitches. Every sound he heard was one of pleasure -- Kurt's body and voice begging him without words.

Blaine reached for a condom, but was stopped by Kurt grabbing his wrist and pulling him close for a kiss. He guided himself into Kurt, waiting for the conscious relaxation, the soft "ah" of acceptance, before moving his hips to glide over the sensitive spot that made Kurt squirm deliciously around him.

Afterward, they lay together tightly entwined. Blaine asked, “Can we stay here all day?”

“I’ll call the combo and cancel rehearsal. We’re auditioning for the club on Tuesday, but I think it will be all right.”

“Good. Because I want to spend all day in bed with the most beautiful man in the world.”

Kurt kissed his nose and teased, “All right, but where will we put him?”

***  
Even exam week was easier together. As they went home to Lima, neither of them was worried that they wouldn’t meet the terms of their scholarships.

Blaine was paying rent at the Hummel residence while working with Jim Kawalski’s crew again for the summer.

Kurt was already back in mechanic mode to earn his summer paycheck, too. This year, though, he got to fall asleep beside Blaine every night.


	8. Trusts and Family

Blaine was clocking in when he saw one of the other men on the lot point him out to a pretty girl.

Jim Kawalski looked at him, and said, "You can head onto the site. I'll tell her you don't exist." Off Blaine's blank stare, he said, "She served divorce papers to one of the men. If she's looking for you, it's legal trouble."

Blaine sighed and walked over to her with his hand out.

She said, "You've been served, Mister Anderson."

He nodded and went back to Kawalski, opening the envelope. "I can't say it's unexpected." His smile was more of a grimace.

"What?"

"My trust fund. My parents are trying to have it broken and reassigned to my sister."

Kawalski stared at him blankly. "Why?"

"On the grounds of 'moral turpitude' according to this."

"Just because you're gay?" Kawalski was incredulous.

Blaine patted the older man's shoulder. "Thank you for that. I know I'm on the clock, but can I have ten minutes? It's early, but I need to call my Aunt."

Kawalski took in the stance and shook his head. He'd worked with Blaine for nearly three years and couldn't believe the kid's folks couldn't see what a good man he was. "Sure. Use the phone in the office. And look on the bright side. You're union. I can always get you work."

***  
Burt Hummel saw the woman standing by the up-market rental car. She was short, but carried herself tall and even in a striped t-shirt and plain trousers had something about her that he thought Kurt would approve of. He picked up a clean rag to wipe his hands on and said, "What can I do for you, ma'am?"

"Burt! I'd recognize your voice anywhere." She held her hand out and he shook it as she said, "Kent Fountains."

"Aunt Kent, I mean Mrs. Fountains…"

"Just Kent, please."

"Blaine and Kurt are off to Cincinnati to see a friend of theirs today."

"I actually wanted to see you, that is, assuming Blaine has kept you apprised of the latest developments."

"You mean his old man trying to screw him out of some money. Yeah. I mean, I know he's got those two partial scholarships, but if he needs it, we can help him with tuition."

Kent blinked back tears and smiled. "Burt, I can cover Blaine's tuition and fees. Heaven knows I don't have anyone else to spend it on. Right now, it's the principle of the thing. My brother-in-law -- worse, my sister -- are being vindictive against a young man who loves them. And they're encouraging his sister to treat him like dirt. I'm here to help him fight."

"I thought the court case was in Indianapolis."

"It is." She looked thoughtful. "May I take you to lunch?"

"Both my guys are out until one, but after that it's fine. I'll call Carole and see if she can meet us."

She smiled broadly and said, "That would be lovely."

***  
Lunch at Breadstix was an interesting experience. Carole seemed a little possessive at first, and Burt was pretty certain it was going to pay off for him that night after the kids were home safe.

In the meantime, Kent, and Burt had to admit he was mentally putting Aunt in front of her name every time he said it, was explaining the ramifications, both financial and legal, of Blaine's situation in general terms.

"What it boils down to is the idea that Blaine's and Kurt's relationship is wrong to the point that it would be an affront to public morality. Frankly, if my attorney is to be believed, these days most states only use moral turpitude to get higher sentences for felonies. It's been decades since this has been tried in a civil case. But all three of Blaine's trusts are unbreakable by outsiders -- he can refuse them or he can be considered unworthy -- convicted of a crime or in a sanitarium for an incurable mental illness are the two main ways to be unworthy."

"Or immoral?" Carole asked.

Kent nodded. "Illinois wouldn't permit the suit to go forward. Ohio lacks jurisdiction, but since the Fountains who set up the trust was from Indiana, it has standing in the case. And they still allow moral turpitude as an aggravating factor in a criminal action. I hope we get a judge who will throw it out as a civil issue, but Indiana is far more conservative than Illinois or even Ohio." She took a bite of the breadstick in her hand, winced, and put it back on her plate.

Burt was puzzled. "So if Blaine were, pardon my French, screwing everything that walked across campus in a skirt, would they still have grounds to break this thing?"

Kent grinned at Kurt's parents. "I was a hippie before I met my husband -- extreme end of the scale. I've tried LSD, pot, and cocaine, and banged a Door and two Rolling Stones -- separ... no, actually, they were together. The point is, I enjoyed my misspent youth immensely, to the point that my father cut me off with the proverbial shilling when I dropped out of high school. But no one tried to break my trust fund on moral grounds. The turpitude laws were still on the books in the early seventies. Now some of it may have been the family not wanting the scandal, but the fact is Blaine and Kurt come across like a Victorian morality tale compared to my past. And I'll be damned if Blaine has to give up one penny because he loves a good man, when I was a hellion and still got a million on my twenty-fifth birthday. It's pure prejudice."

Carole's eyes went wide at her recitation. "Your husband…"

"We met at my twenty-sixth birthday party. Mark died five years ago. He was twenty-three years my senior, and up until his last illness, could out dance me on any Saturday night." Kent smiled a little sadly.

"It sounds like you had a great marriage. You didn't have any kids?" Carole patted the older woman's hand.

"Joe was coming home from a field trip to the State Capitol at Springfield. A drunk driver crashed into a car one lane over and the school bus they were in got caught in the fall out from it. The bus driver did everything right, but there were no seatbelts on those buses. Thirty kids on the bus -- ten were injured and the two sitting right behind the driver were killed. Joe was sitting right behind the driver."

"I'm so sorry," Carole said.

Burt asked, "How old was Blaine? Were they close?"

"Blaine was about to turn eight, and Joe had just turned thirteen. Blaine… at the funeral, he was so solemn, and he insisted on sitting right next to me. He leaned as close as he could through the whole funeral, just trying to make me feel better. I don't know if Joe would have liked boys or girls or robots. He was thirteen, just beginning to figure himself out. But I can't understand how my sister can throw a healthy, loving son away." She shook her head to clear it. "Here I've kept you from your shop for an hour, and I didn't even tell you why I came. I wanted to ask if Kurt could come to Indianapolis with Blaine and me. I know he's nearly twenty and can make his own decisions, but I also know he works for you in the summers, so…"

"I've already told them both, ‘whatever Kurt wants to do.’" Burt smiled. "I think they'd prefer to face it together, and, honestly, I wouldn't have a clue how to help them, so I'm glad you're there to do it."

"I've taken a parlor suite with an adjoining room for Blaine at the Canterbury Hotel. Kurt would be no trouble."

Burt said, "It's up to them."

***  
Blaine could see Kurt through the glass walls. For the purposes of the trust, he was still underage and could therefore request Aunt Kent stay in the room, but Kurt, who would be giving his own deposition either later today or tomorrow -- was in the waiting room reading a book and occasionally writing in his notebook. Blaine wanted to look over his shoulder and see what had caught Kurt’s attention. Instead he was stuck in here, surrounded by lawyers and family.

His mother hadn't come, but his father was present and, much to Blaine's shock, so was his sister. She wouldn't look at him, but he kept seeing the changes in her. Marianne was a beautiful young woman now, and she sat stony-faced listening to every word being said.

The questioning had started with the obvious: Are you a homosexual? And Blaine had discovered that instead of having an inner Queen of England, as he suspected Kurt did, his interior monologue seemed to be from Puck -- which, WTF? He'd barely even hung out with the guy.

He'd kept his equanimity and resisted both the temptation to camp up his answers to piss his father off and fended off the worst excesses of his inner Puck who right now wanted to do anything he could just to get his sister to look at him. Table dancing was a definite possibility.

Instead, he was answering questions about his sex life in front of his seventeen year old sister. He had a momentary flashback to Kurt answering the officer in his assault case and let a little of his frustration out. "Define your terms," Blaine told the lawyer he'd mentally dubbed Thing 1.

Thing 1 consulted with Thing 2 for a moment and reiterated, "Are you a practicing homosexual?"

Kurt looked up from his book in the waiting room and smiled softly when he caught Blaine's eye. For a moment, Blaine nearly told the room what "practicing" had meant to the two of them ever since their first kiss. He resisted. He also resisted his inner Puck's prompting to say, "No, I don't need to practice, I know what I'm doing."

"I am a homosexual. I have already said so."

"Are you having sexual relations with other men?" Thing 1 sounded nearly as exasperated as Blaine felt.

"No. I am in a relationship with one man." All right, so sometimes the inner Puck was the right answer, if Aunt Kent's quiet smile was anything to go by.

Thing 2 asked, "How many people have you kissed?"

"Five."

"So, there have been at least five men with whom you've had relations?" Thing 2 sounded smug.

"No. Three men, one of whom I'm in a serious relationship with, and two women."

Marianne actually glanced at him for a second at that.

"How many women have you had sexual relations with?"

"None. Just kissing."

"How many men have you had sexual relations with?"

Blaine stared at the two attorneys. "Please be more specific."

"How many have you masturbated?"

"One."

"Been masturbated by?"

"Two."

Thing 2's head popped up. "So you have had sexual relations with more than one man?"

"A guy groped me at a party when I was fifteen. I was young and horny enough that I enjoyed it. I was also too inexperienced to realize I was supposed to reciprocate." Blaine shook his head at the memory. He and Kurt had discussed when they first started dating, and again last week when they were preparing for the depositions.

Thing 1 raised an eyebrow and continued his litany. "How many men have you performed oral sex on?"

"One."

"How many men have performed oral sex on you?"

"One. And I'll save you the trouble of asking the anal penetration questions. The answer is still 'one.'"

Thing 2 asked, "Have you ever taken an illegal drug?"

"The law about marijuana is ambiguous in the Netherlands. I tried it there when I was travelling. Other than that, I take over the counter allergy pills when the ragweed is particularly bad and ibuprofen for headaches and strained muscles."

"You're under twenty-one?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever drunk alcohol?"

"Yes." His attorney had told him to answer with one word wherever possible. Blaine found it maddening to listen to his relationship with Kurt, his life, reduced to single syllables in answer to some terribly rude questions.

The only one that really felt insulting, probably because his lawyer hadn't prepared him for it, came toward the end.

Thing 2 smiled smugly and asked, "How long do you think this relationship can last?"

"Ours? I didn't know you cared." Blaine watched Thing 2 recoil slightly at the suggestion. Thing 1's spine stiffened at the implications, too.

Thing 2 stated crisply, "I meant your 'relationship' with Kurt Hummel."

Blaine could hear the quotation marks around the word relationship, and it took all his willpower not to explode at the two men taking depositions or to storm out, collect Kurt, and just keep walking back to Oberlin. He noticed Marianne looking at him intently before she averted her eyes, and that calmed him.

He took a deep breath and said, "We've discussed marriage. Kurt's father asked us to wait until we had a couple of years of college under our belt, and I think we're on the same page about getting married as soon as we graduate."

"Marriage between two men is illegal." It was the first time Blaine's father had spoken.

"Not in Iowa," Blaine said, "Or Massachusetts, or Connecticut, or New Hampshire…"

Mister Anderson met his son's eyes for the first time in the three hours they'd been sitting at the table. "It's disgusting and should be banned. The Federal Government…"

"Is no longer defending its DOMA, Father." Blaine kept calm. "People are recognizing that marriage is good for society. It doesn't really matter whether the participants are men, women, or both."

Blaine could see his father start to work himself up into a rage, but Thing 1 said, "Mister Anderson, we seem to have reached a good stopping point for today. We'll resume tomorrow morning with Mister Hummel before taking your deposition in the afternoon, sir."

His father gave a tight nod, and, grabbing Marianne's hand, stormed out of the room. Kurt stood up as they went past, and Blaine could see Marianne stop for a second and just stare at Kurt before his father yanked her hand to pull her out of the office.

Kurt met his eyes and smiled warmly. Blaine couldn't wait to get back to the hotel.

***  
They found an open-mic cafe around the corner from their hotel and spent the evening eating awful food, listening, and singing. The pianist would accompany anyone, and somehow, Kurt was reminded of Brad from his days in the glee club. Around eight-thirty, Marianne came in.

Kurt noticed her first. He debated whether to bring it to Blaine’s attention, but knew he had to. He touched Blaine’s hand and nodded to the quiet table near the back where she’d sat down. He saw Blaine’s eyes go wide.

“Kurt, maybe we should leave.”

The pianist called Blaine’s name, and Kurt said, “Courage. You’ll be fine.”

Blaine went up to the piano, talked to the pianist for a minute, then locked eyes with Kurt. He began to sing “This Guy’s in Love with You,” and Kurt just bathed in the warmth of Blaine’s voice before remembering that was the song he’d planned to sing next.

By the time Blaine sat back down, Kurt was blushing at the thought of going back to their hotel room.

His name was called, and Kurt patted Blaine’s hand and walked up to the piano. He suddenly knew the perfect song for this moment. Blaine had told him Marianne’s favorite movie was _Chitty Chitty Bang Bang_. He spoke quietly to the pianist, who nodded that he knew the song.

He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering his voice teacher’s words about purity of tone before beginning to sing _Hushabye Mountain._

He made eye contact with anyone who looked toward him, and by the end of the song, he found himself singing primarily to Marianne whose eyes were locked on his with an intensity Kurt didn’t understand.

When he finished, the pianist said, “We’ll take a break for about half an hour. Hand your sign-ups to your waiter.”

Blaine signaled for their check, and they walked out together without speaking. Kurt could see tear tracks on his face.

When the heat of the summer evening hit them, they took hands, and Blaine said, “That’s her favorite song.”

“I hope it helped.”

“So do I. And, Kurt? I’ve never heard you sing better.”

Kurt kissed his cheek, and they walked back to the hotel.

***  
Kurt excused himself from the deposition early in the process to make certain he didn’t have spinach in his teeth or something. Blaine had told him that Marianne rarely cast a glance in his direction, but she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off of Kurt.

When he returned to the room, the questions asked were dull and repetitive. There were several about his family background that he found belittling. His father might "only" be a mechanic, but it was skilled labor and Burt had worked hard to give him a good life.

The questioning lasted for about two hours. Afterward, Blaine went back into the room and listened to his Dad’s deposition. From the waiting room, Kurt could see his boyfriend get stonier and colder as every answer passed.

After they were finally let go for the day, Blaine came out of the room so swiftly that Kurt barely had time to get his book back into his bag before they marched out.

As they entered the lobby of their hotel, Kurt finally turned to Aunt Kent, who also hadn’t spoken a word since they’d left the attorney’s office and muttered, “What’s going on?”

“Blaine, I’ll treat us all to tea since they let us out early.”

“Of course, Aunt Kent.” He looked at Kurt. “Shall I take your bag to our room?”

“Sure.” He handed it over, his eyes searching Blaine's face.

Blaine gave a perfunctory smile and took it toward the elevator. Kurt and Kent took seats in the lobby and ordered three afternoon teas.

Kent said, “He’s been ordered to take a blood test to prove his paternity.”

Kurt took a deep breath and let it out. “I thought the trust came from your side of the family. You keep mentioning the Fountains.”

“It does. But the other two -- he gets one at twenty-five and there’s one at thirty-five -- those are from the Anderson side of the family. Jane would never have cheated on William -- and I know _he’s_ had at least two affairs. I know the blood test won’t prove what William wants it to, but he’s hoping Blaine will balk.”

“If Blaine walks out...”

“Then the chances are good the judge will rule in William Anderson’s favor about all three trusts.”

Blaine pulled up an armchair and sat across the coffee table from them.

Kurt smiled at him. “Walk out. He’s insulted your mother, and he insults you if he thinks you need the money. You have brains, and you have talent. I know you qualify for a larger academic scholarship now. We can get to who we want to be without anything from him.”

Blaine returned his smile. “I am so tempted.” He looked at his aunt. “The money really isn’t the main thing.”

“You can give it all to charity if you want to,” she said. “I’m with you, whichever decision you choose. And that includes helping with your college expenses if you want to walk out of this whole process.”

“Thanks, Aunt Kent. It’s good to know there’s an option. " He patted her hand before turning to Kurt.

“Money helps, Kurt. It would be nice to have. But you’re right we don’t need it.” He took a deep breath. “If Marianne weren’t here, I’d walk out, in spite of everything you’ve done to help, Aunt Kent. But she needs to know that my being gay doesn’t mean I don’t love her. She needs to know our mother was faithful. And she needs to see _someone_ stand up to my father.”

Kurt nodded. “Your father reminds me of Principal Figgins. He thinks the world should conform to his ideas of it -- for good and bad -- and that nothing unusual should ever happen. Oh, and he’s oblivious to the effect his policies have on other people.”

Kent smiled and poured three cups of tea, passing two to Blaine and Kurt.

"Did I hear one of the attorneys say a nurse would be there tomorrow? Or do I have to find someone to draw my blood?”

“A nurse will be there. Be aware that they may try to take enough to run other tests.”

Kurt reached for a cucumber sandwich and paused. “Like what? Either Blaine is William Anderson’s son or he’s not.”

Blaine’s lips thinned. “Like STDs. Right, Auntie?”

“Right.”

Kurt put down his tea cup with a clatter. “That’s...”

“Unthinkable. I know,” Kent said. She turned to her nephew. “You can have our attorney put a strict limit on how the blood is to be used.”

Blaine shook his head. “Let them run anything they want. If nothing else, maybe I can prove to my dad that I’m a ‘red-blooded American man.’”

Kurt picked up his cup and gave a brittle smile. “How disappointing. I was sure your blood was blue.”

***  
Once the depositions were completed, Kent returned to Chicago, and the boys drove back to their jobs in Lima. Blaine's birthday came and went with a party involving New Directions and the Warblers at Six Flags, and a homemade [Sacher Torte](http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Sachertorte-231043) from Kurt after they got home.

School was due to begin again in a week. Blaine accepted Aunt Kent's offer to cover his meal plan and dorm fees again and paid every penny he'd earned since January to cover the difference between his scholarships and the rest of his tuition bill for the semester.

They checked their respective athletic schedules to see which of one could attend the other's games or meets, registered to take "The Color of Music: Symbolism and Decadence Across the Arts" as their joint class, and Kurt decorated their room in around a Steiglitz aquatint of Venice that Blaine chose from the museum's art rental scheme.

About two weeks after the semester started, Blaine found a card in his box that just had his name and an address of Oberlin College, Oberlin, OH. He checked the postmark and found it had bounced around since just before the semester began.

It was a late birthday card. Elmo was reaching his arms out on the front of it and the interior said, “Happy Birthday, Big Brother.” There was a letter inside the card.

Blaine took it back to his room. Kurt found him sitting on the sofa about an hour later just holding the folded sheet in his hand.

“It’s from Marianne,” Blaine said.

Kurt took the letter from him and asked, “Would you like me to read it to you?”

Blaine closed his eyes and nodded.

Kurt read: __

_Dear Blaine,_

 _I don’t know what to say. Dad put me into Catholic School right after you went to Dalton. I missed you, but Mom was crying and praying for you and Dad was so angry. I couldn’t understand how you could choose to be so different, choose to be evil._

 _Some of the teachers were better at explaining things. But Sister Frances was my English teacher last year, and I think she gave me a better understanding. We analyzed_ The Picture of Dorian Gray _for English, and she emphasized that beauty -- and ugliness -- comes from within. The picture meant that Dorian Gray didn’t show the ugliness that his life would have brought him._

 _I still miss you. Mom wouldn’t come to Indianapolis, but I had to see you because I thought you’d be ugly or showing signs of your lifestyle. Instead, you were handsome. Composed. And Dad... I went to the open mic cafe because he kept getting uglier to me with every word he said. He thought Mom could cheat. He thought you were a disgrace, and he’d turn red and spit with anger as he said it._

 _Then I saw Kurt, and he was beautiful._

“It’s amazing what a good moisturizing routine can do.” Kurt was blushing a little as he said it.

“Take the compliment, Angel. Marianne’s right. You are beautiful, body and soul.”

Kurt kissed his temple. “And you’ve become devastatingly handsome, you know.”

“Become?”

“You were cute when I met you. Now, you’re handsome.”

Blaine kissed Kurt.

When they came up for air, Kurt said, “There’s more.”

“Finish the letter.”

Kurt continued. _I kept looking for something between you that would look like sin or evil, but instead I saw strength and joy._

 _Kurt sang my favorite song like he wanted to pierce my soul. And, I don’t know if you saw me the night before the depositions were over, but I saw you two singing “The Bare Necessities” and you_ liked _each other so much._

 _I don’t know if I can ever really accept that you’ll be with a man for the rest of your life. I just don’t know about gay. But I miss my brother, and I have to think that two people who like each other and love each other and try to be good to each other are worth knowing._

 _I rented a P.O. Box that’s on my way home from school. My school email is marianne.anderson@saintcatherinecatholicIL.edu. Don’t email me too often because Mom and Dad look over my shoulder sometimes and check my text messages, but I miss my brother._

 _I hope you and Kurt are happy._

 _Love,_

 _Marianne_

There were tears in Blaine's eyes.

Kurt kissed them away and whispered, "You have your sister back."


	9. Forward to the Future

Kurt and the Girls had proved to be popular enough at Le Jazz to be offered a weekly gig. It was on Wednesdays, true, but like most of the student performers around the college, they'd started out with a monthly date. Blaine's solo set at Diesel the previous semester had been on the fifth Tuesday of the month. Now, he was doing the first Tuesday every month, which was better since there was always a first Tuesday, but nowhere near as well as Kurt.

Blaine didn't exactly envy his boyfriend; he knew part of the reason he had fewer dates was there were a lot more singer/song-writers with guitars and a slightly alternative vibe than there were killer rhythm combos with lead singer who had a three octave range. The fact that Kurt and the Girls reversed expectations by having a male vocalist and female instrumentalists also helped them recruit patrons to their weekly sets.

He liked the combo a lot, and not just because his boyfriend fronted it. They had two songs he'd written in their repertory, and occasionally, Kurt would invite him up for a duet or two. Once, when Constance was sick, Blaine had even filled in on guitar, and quickly learned just how different rhythm guitar was from what he usually played.

While he didn't make it to every performance, Blaine liked to show up most weeks for at least the end of the second set. Kurt was more relaxed then, singing the ballads at which he excelled, and playing with the beat more freely than he tended to do in the earlier set. He'd been surprised the first time he'd attended one of their rehearsals to see that there wasn't a drummer. Constance on guitar and Vivi on bass alternated on time keeping. Sometimes Kurt would play a hand percussion instrument to give a particular flavor to a song, and every once in a while Cleo would kick at the piano to set a beat. The four of them had started out well, and now, after nearly a year of playing together, could shift moods on a dime, reflecting each others' patterns and deepening their music.

Tonight, he'd wandered in between sets with his study group for Labor Economics after they'd declared themselves ready to pass any mid-term their professor could throw at them. They found a table not far from the bar and continued their discussion about management's responsibilities until the group took the stage. Kurt caught his eye, grinned, then turned and said something to Constance who swung them into a hot rendition of Gershwin's [They All Laughed.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OQOW1-q9eUk&feature=fvsr)

The guy sitting next to him, Steve, licked his lips and said, "Did you say you knew Kurt?"

"Yeah."

"Think you could introduce me?"

Blaine thought back over the previous couple of weeks in the study group and said, "I thought you were straight?"

"I am, but I'm flexible. A mouth like that, I'll bet he could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch."

"You're out of luck. He has a boyfriend." Blaine was proud of his self control.

"Like that matters to a gay." Steve shook his head at Blaine's naiveté.

Blaine looked at him. "I'm gay. It matters."

"And I'll bet you'd drill that tight little ass of his in a heartbeat whether or not you had a boyfriend. I know I would, and I bet if I closed my eyes, he'd sound like a girl. It's a win."

Blaine swallowed hard and signaled the waiter for another drink. Kurt would not be pleased if he punched a guy out.

The rest of the set was excellent, but Steve would occasionally make lustful remarks, although he had seemed to grasp that Blaine found them annoying.

Toward the end, Kurt looked at Blaine's table, and Blaine shook his head. On any other night, he might have joined Kurt for a duet, especially on [Romance in the Dark](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3GwlhO6nZiM) which Kurt always sang with an artless passion. Instead he saw Kurt give a signal, letting him know there would be two more songs before his signature song, [Whistling Away the Dark](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nEK4hsD_bNs). Usually, Blaine would wait for Kurt at the table, but tonight, he paid his bill and made his way backstage as the last song was beginning.

He barely gave Kurt enough time to grab his bag. The night was still warm for late October, and Blaine was glad neither of them was wearing a bulky coat as he tugged Kurt into a copse of trees and pressed him into a possessive kiss.

"What's that for?" Kurt said breathily.

"The guy next to me at the table was …" He pushed Kurt until his back was against a tree-trunk and knelt in front of him. "He was talking about you like you were easy, like you'd roll over for him."

Kurt cupped Blaine's chin and tilted it up until their eyes met. "I barely roll over for you."

Blaine smiled as he began to unzip Kurt's fly by feel. "No, you don't. I love that you're in control in the bedroom. I love it when you're inside my mouth, my ass."

"Your ear?" Kurt giggled, and then gasped as a broad wet stripe was licked up the thick vein on his cock. "You're the only man I know who'd stake his claim by getting on his knees and sucking."

There was a soft pop and Kurt hissed as the cold air hit the wet warmth where Blaine's mouth had been.

"I want him to know I'm yours." He flicked his tongue over Kurt's slit and swirled his tongue around the head.

"You're hoping he'll see us." Kurt could feel the faint nod as Blaine took him deeper. "So kinky." He smiled. "You're mine. I'm yours. We're each other's." His eyes closed in pleasure. "I love you."

Blaine pulled off for a moment, and said, "I love you, too," before taking Kurt in again.

***

Aunt Kent called just before midterms to tell them the judge was ready to rule. They re-arranged their schedule, in Kurt's case taking one exam early, so they could get to Indianapolis.

There was some argument about who could be in chambers when the judge announced his decision. Ultimately, Kurt and Marianne ended up waiting in the hallway outside the judge's chambers.

After a few minutes, Kurt said, "Blaine got your birthday card. Thank you. I think you made him very happy."

Marianne swallowed. "Did you read it, too?"

Kurt nodded.

"Oh."

"Will you have time to have dinner with us afterward? I know Aunt Kent would love to have you join us."

"If Dad wins, you won't want me there, and if Dad loses, he's going to be so mad that we'll probably go straight back to Illinois tonight." Marianne couldn't meet Kurt's eyes.

"I understand." He thought for a moment. "When you leave home, I want you to know you can come to us. Even if we're still in college, even if Blaine doesn't have the trust money. You're part of the family."

Marianne finally looked at him. Kurt noticed how much her eyes looked like Blaine's and saw they were full of tears. She nodded a couple of times and finally blurted out, "Do you like Oberlin?"

Kurt smiled and let her change the subject. "I love it. Even the classes in classical Greek I have to take for my scholarship."

About half an hour of chitchat on how to choose colleges and what classes Marianne might enjoy, the door to the judge's chamber opened and William Anderson stormed out. He grabbed Marianne's hand and pulled her after him so quickly she didn't have time to finish her sentence.

Kurt looked from Aunt Kent to Blaine and then at William Anderson's retreating back. He said, "Well, he's not happy."

Blaine took his hand. "We won."

"Dinner's on me tonight, but the next time we meet it's your treat," Aunt Kent said with a smile.

"That seems fair."

That night when they got back to the hotel, Blaine kissed Kurt and said, "Can bedtime wait a few minutes?"

"Sure, I have some studying to do."

"Actually," Blaine started his tablet and pulled up the internet, "I wanted your help. Do you think Burt and Carole would enjoy Tahiti or Hawaii more for Christmas?"

Kurt kissed him soundly. "As long as they don't have to take Finn with them, I think they'll be happy either way."

"Would you mind having Finn with us?"

"He wouldn't share our room, would he?"

"No. But I thought we could see Rachel in London."

Kurt thought a minute. "Dad won't want to leave the shop uncovered. How about we do Spring break in London and Christmas in Lima?"

"That sounds perfect."

"You can still send Finn away." He draped his arms around Blaine and nuzzled his neck. "I'd love to have the house to ourselves."

Blaine laughed. "We'll see, Angel. Let's get your parents' present straightened out first.

***  
Blaine sometimes missed his canary. He'd passed along Carreras to the next new Warbler to come in. The one after him -- was it Jeff or Thad? -- had been the one who'd had Pavarotti when Kurt came in.

He stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped a towel around his waist, and watched his new songbird begin to warble.

Kurt got up over an hour earlier in the morning than Blaine did. It wasn't something that happened while they'd traveled. In Europe, hell, in DC, they'd awakened together more often than not. But working for something he really wanted, like his college degree, like his future with Blaine, Kurt carved his days into chunks to make certain he accomplished everything he needed to.

Some mornings, Blaine could distract him with a hand job or a blowjob. Some mornings, Kurt nuzzled up against him until Blaine begged for sex -- which he then got. Most mornings, though, Kurt woke up, rolled out of bed and began his exercise routine. It was a mix of yoga, dance, and fencing drills. Before they'd even shared the room a week, Kurt had found a thick rug and a sticky pad to put underneath it for his exercise area near the window. Three mornings a week, Blaine would get out of bed right after Kurt completed his final speed drill with his foil, and they'd go for a run together around the campus. Two mornings a week, they'd head for the gym and spot each other for their weight routines.

When they came back to the room, Blaine would grab a shower while Kurt took care of breakfast for both of them, and Blaine loved opening the door to let the steam out and hearing Kurt's morning vocal warm-ups.

This morning, they'd slept a little late. Summer session was just as demanding, more so for people who weren't as quick on the uptake as Kurt, but the compressed timeframe of the classes meant that very few started before ten or ended after four-thirty. When Blaine opened the door, rather than hearing the usual runs of scales or arpeggios he heard Kurt singing a baroque piece.

He smiled as he sat down to poached eggs, seven grain toast, coffee, and fresh juice. "That isn't Bach or Vivaldi," he said when Kurt finished the song.

"No, it's Purcell -- _Sweeter than Roses._ "

"And?"

"And what?"

"You sounded angelic, but you don't usually try an aria at this hour. I've heard pop and jazz, and even the top of your range at the breakfast table, but rarely classical unless you're preparing for something specific."

Kurt sat down to his own breakfast of vegetable juice and quark on the same type of toast Blaine had.

"My voice teacher thinks I'm ready… The Cleveland Philharmonic is preparing a huge season, not the one that's coming up, but the one beginning next September. They're doing an entire season of British music, even their Pops will be British. They haven't announced what they're doing beyond that, but the auditions for the solo vocal parts they'll need starts in October and they expect to make the selections by the end of January. This Purcell song is the one that all the countertenors will perform for the first round."

Blaine swallowed some coffee. "Are you nervous? It's July. The auditions aren't until October…"

"It's not like auditioning for a play. With that, if I don't get a role, there could be a hundred factors -- including how I look or interact with other actors."

Blaine nodded.

"They're doing this audition like they do the orchestra auditions. I'll be behind a screen -- it's just my voice. Countertenors … we're rare, but we're also not in high demand. I'll have competition from everyone with my range who's east of the Mississippi and probably about half the people from the other side of the river."

"I know this sounds like a strange question, but why is this important to you?"

Kurt stared at his plate for a moment, then looked at Blaine. "I love everything I'm learning. I think I could be a good interiors architect. Look, I know I said I didn't see myself performing as an adult -- not professionally -- but," he sighed, "I love singing. I love my once a week performances at Le Jazz, and this could be a real opportunity for a different kind of career."

Blaine nodded. "I love my once a week performances at Diesel, but it's still just something to do for fun. I loved the expression on your face when you heard the song I wrote you for your birthday last year, but if no one else ever heard it, I'd be fine. It doesn't drive me the way coming up with my turbine has or learning how to re-imagine a skyline or even some of my math classes do. I love to perform, but I don't need the acknowledgement."

"I know it's shallow of me."

"No. Angel, that's not at all what I meant. I meant music, performing it, drives you in a way it doesn't drive me. I know we've discussed sharing an office because we have complementary tracks in our architectural careers, maybe even starting our own firm. But, Angel, if you find your real dream is music -- Broadway, classical, jazz, whatever -- then follow your dream. I'll help in any way I can."

Kurt bit his lip. "My teacher says the first audition will probably have two rounds. We'll each get to sing a verse -- maybe less -- of the song. Then the ones who've impressed the judges will be brought back in the afternoon or the next day to sing the whole thing, still behind the screen. If we pass that one, get called back…"

Blaine saw his boyfriend's pensive face and patted his hand reassuringly. "If you pass that, then what?"

"Maybe a hundred will sing the verse and of those thirty or forty will perform the full song. I'm pretty sure I can make it that far. The second round would be anywhere from a week to a month later. That round won't have a screen and we'll be required to sing two other pieces of our own choosing. We won't be limited to British music, but it will look good if at least one piece is British and it will look even better if the two songs are from different eras."

"I assume Vivaldi is too close to Purcell in era?"

Kurt nodded. "Handel was my first thought with Vivaldi a close second, but I think lots of guys will be looking at Handel and," he shrugged, "Vivaldi may not be different enough to distinguish me."

"I know you have ideas. You always do. I mean I know your second song will be that Britten piece from your recital last month."

Kurt shook his head. "That's the other song I think half the auditioners will use. _I know a bank where the wild thyme grows_ is one of the few modern countertenor arias that's well known. It's British, too." He took the last swallow of juice. "I'm just afraid I'll get stuck with Elgar. I hate Elgar."

"I promise, I'll find you something by Vaughn Williams at least. But if you're doing two different eras, what's the older song going to be?"

"I was thinking Orfeo's aria by Gluck. Even though it's usually played by a woman, it's an alto role, well within my range, and it was originally sung by a man."

Blaine raised his eyebrows. "Which means it's unlikely anyone else will choose it. That's the best kind of Kurt thinking."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Mister Anderson."

Blaine laughed, "And you call me cheesy." He grabbed the dishes and rinsed them in the bathroom sink.

Kurt smiled at him fondly. "Just promise me you'll keep thinking about what my second song should be. I really hope I make it to the second round."

Blaine dried his hands and wrapped his arms around Kurt. "I have no doubt that you will. You're Kurt Hummel, and you have the voice of an angel."

***  
The summer continued. They each took two intensive classes during each of the two summer semesters. Blaine's B.A. was going to be in Art History, but his last requirement was to take a studio art course which he'd somehow missed in the previous two years. The summer course schedule was limited, so Blaine took the only one that let him take the other classes he needed: Life drawing.

At the end of the second class, Blaine came back to their room to find Kurt sprawled out on their bed with several notebooks around him and his laptop open.

"What class?"

" _Space and Environment_ \-- there are only ten of us in the seminar, and the reading list is out of this world."

"Feel like doing your research nude?"

Kurt turned over to look at him. "Is this a new kink? I'm still trying to keep up with the old ones." His smile softened the words.

Blaine walked over and kissed him lightly before sitting in a chair. "The thing is we get live models two days a week that the university pays for. The professor has asked us to canvass family and friends for volunteers either to come to class or for our practice drawings."

"Which are you asking me for?" Kurt asked seriously.

"Well. It's easier to find female models of a wide range of body type. I told the professor I'd talk to you," he held his hands up placatingly, "Not about your modeling for the class, although it would be a help, but about my modeling for the class one day."

"So you're only asking me for practice drawings -- nothing that would ever be seen?"

Blaine looked a little uncomfortable. "I'm not sure I could promise that. The professor would probably see it, and if he thought it made a point, he'd share it with the class as an illustration of whatever point -- good or bad. I could promise it wouldn't go into the public exhibition without your permission."

"Huh." Kurt rearranged his notes and patted the bed. "Anything else?"

"How can you always tell?"

"Because you're pretty close to transparent."

"One of the girls in my class spoke to her roommate. The roommate is willing to pose for the two of us to give us both more practice, and she wanted to know if I had a male friend who'd be willing to do the same so that she could get more time with the male form."

"Do you trust her?"

Blaine stretched out beside him. "I've known her less than a week, but yeah, I do."

"Okay. I'll pose for both of you this weekend, if she's available. If I hate it, I won't do it again, but she'll still have gotten some more practice. If I don't mind it, then I might do it again, and I'll consider offering to do it for your class."

Blaine kissed him.

Before they could get too carried away, Kurt pulled back. "There's a caveat."

"All right." Blaine leaned back in for another kiss.

"Pay attention. I won't censor her drawings, and you can draw me anytime you want for practice, but I get to say whether or not your drawings of me get displayed to your class."

"Why?"

Kurt took a deep breath. "Because you really see me. I'm afraid that some of your drawings might be too intimate… I don't mean erections or anything, but emotionally."

Blaine thought for a moment. "Anything I do in class or during the session with Chrissie is fair game for a critique from my professor. Anything I draw of you when it's just the two of us, you get to decide."

"That's more than fair. Now then, why don't you get back to distracting me from noology?"

***  
While they both worked hard at their classes, they also enjoyed their summer. Kurt got out an old sketchbook and let Blaine teach him the basics of life drawing while he used Blaine as a sounding board for his ideas about how usage of interior space should and shouldn't affect the exterior shape.

Blaine bought a second guitar, better than his first, and started teaching Kurt some basics. At first Kurt demurred. As much as he loved feeling the slight calluses on Blaine's hands when they traced patterns on his body, he really did not want calluses of his own.

"There's a method to my madness, Angel."

"No, I'm pretty sure you're just mad," Kurt said as they lay together watching the pattern of the sunset on their wall.

"I'm serious. I've thought about it and your second audition piece, because you _will_ make it that far, should be _Blackbird._ "

"I… that's either really stupid or absolutely brilliant."

"It's brilliant." Blaine tickled him for a moment, then pulled him close. "You sound transcendent when you sing it, and it's a British composer."

"And a broad range of history would be represented. Thank you." Kurt snuggled closer. "I should reward you for solving my dilemma."

Blaine stretched his arms over his head and grinned at him. "I think pounding me into the mattress would be a suitable reward."

Kurt took in his position and rubbed their noses together. "I'll get the handcuffs."

 

***

Kurt formally declared his major as Sociology at the end of the second summer term.

With the Life Drawing class under his belt, Blaine completed his Art History degree, which meant he could start at Case Western Reserve for the engineering degree in his double degree program.

They'd spent the summer joined together. When Kurt got up at four in the morning to drive to Lima and work a ten hour day at the garage every Friday, Blaine slept in the passenger seat and he was the one who drove them back to college on Sundays after Kurt finished his evening shift.

They talked about getting an off-campus apartment to share half-way between the two schools, but decided against it for the year. Winter roads and hour long commutes twice a day wouldn't be conducive to study. Instead, they arranged their schedules so that Blaine had Fridays off and Kurt had Mondays. They'd alternate which campus they stayed at every weekend depending on things like Kurt's fencing meet schedule and Blaine's extracurriculars.

The third week of the semester, Blaine called Kurt and said, "There's a solar decathlon team. Care to join us? It will be 'Team Ohio' if you do."

"Are they interested in interior design?"

"Yes." Blaine started talking a little faster. "The meetings are on Tuesday evenings this semester. We may need to go to twice a week sometimes, but I know you only have one class on Wednesday afternoon. I thought if you could come up for the Tuesday meeting and stay the night…"

Kurt sighed with pleasure. "I'd like that. Let me see if I can switch modules on my philosophy class. If I can, then I won't have to worry about driving after dark either."

"I miss you so much, Angel."

"Me, too, Lover."

***

Five weeks later, Kurt stomped out of the decathlon meeting, and Blaine came after him, equally furious.

“Kurt, stop. What was that all about?”

“We’re a footnote, Blaine. And on this project, that’s fine for me. I mean, I don’t love it when they shoot down my ideas, but I know they wanted this to be an all Case-Western project and having me on the team prevents that. But I’ve watched that wind-turbine of yours evolve from its earliest inception, and your name isn’t on the paper. If I hadn’t said something, they wouldn’t have even given you the _fucking_ footnote on your own fucking design.” He stopped walking and rounded on Blaine. “You didn’t stand up for yourself. You’re usually one of the most confident men I know, and you didn’t stand up for yourself.”

Blaine shook his head. “I’m new to the team. I’m sure they’d have gotten around to giving me the footnote...”

“No. You don’t get to take the ‘my boyfriend’s a bit of a diva’ route on this. My point is even if all you contributed were the wind-turbine, you should be listed as an equal participant on the design and model. This is our future -- _our_ future, not just yours -- that you’re refusing to stand up for.” He turned on his heel and began marching back toward his car.

There were some murmurs of “goodnight” from the rest of the committee behind them. Blaine responded with a wave and a few words before running after Kurt. “Where are you going? I thought you didn’t have class tomorrow morning.”

“I don’t. I just...” Kurt let out a shaky breath. “I hate not being together, but I think I need to go back to Oberlin and make up my mind whether to continue.”

“You’re breaking up with me?”

Kurt stopped cold and stared at him. Blaine looked like he was about to throw up.

“No, Lover. Whether I can continue on this design committee. I can take my ideas for where to situate the windows being rejected without explanation, but I can’t watch them walk all over you.”

Blaine crossed toward Kurt, tugged him close and wrapped his arms tightly around Kurt’s waist. “Stay here tonight. Make your decision about the committee later, but stay with me tonight. We get too little time together as it is.”

Kurt relaxed into the embrace and kissed the crown of his head. “That’s true.”

“And it’s a stupid thing to fight about.”

Kurt raised his head. “No, it isn’t. I was serious. This is about our future, the one we’ve been envisioning since that first trip to DC. It won’t break us up. There’s almost nothing that could do that, but this is serious.”

“Angel, those guys made it into the top fifty selections two years ago. They’re on track to be in the top twenty this year, if they refine the design a little more...”

“Maybe. That side of it is subjective to the judging committee. Maybe the judges would be more impressed by a radical rethinking rather than a tweak. Either decision is a risk. That’s not what bothers me.”

Blaine took a step back. “You don’t really think Mark and Jared would steal my design. It was an oversight on their part.”

“Blaine, those guys haven’t shown us an original idea. Neither of us knows whether or not they were prime movers in the previous project. The others graduated and the paper, model, and blueprints have all five members of the team listed in alphabetical order. You said they invited you after only sitting in two classes with you and they let you invite me without even meeting me.”

“Yeah. Jared said they’d have scored higher with better energy efficiency, and I’d been talking about how to combine smart glass with both solar and wind power to reduce consumption while we were in class.”

Kurt nodded. “That’s my point. You impressed them. Quickly. The only major change they’re proposing to the prior design is incorporating your turbine and they didn’t even credit you. Two years from now, let’s say the team makes it into the decathlon -- maybe takes top place for consumption -- don’t you think the firms they interview with are going to be most interested in that aspect? Do you think they’ll credit you if your name isn’t on it?”

“You don’t usually think so badly of people.”

“They look at you like they’re hungry. The first time, I thought it was attraction -- " He bumped Blaine's shoulder with his own. "Even straight guys think you’re cute.”

Blaine guffawed at that.

“It’s not though. They aren’t bothered that we’re gay, but they also aren’t trying to get into your pants. They’re not even trying to be friends. Frankly, I think they’re parasites. Your turbine could get them recognition, and if they can do it without your name on it, even better.”

“But.” Blaine smiled at Kurt. “I had a surprise for you tonight.”

Kurt leaned in and kissed him. “I’m sorry if I spoiled it.”

“No, but even if you’re right about them, and I don’t think you are, it wouldn’t work.”

“What wouldn’t?”

“Trying to claim the design of the turbine for themselves. That was the surprise.” He slid his pack from his shoulder and rifled through it, taking out an official looking envelope. Blaine handed it to Kurt and nodded for him to open it.

Kurt’s eyes went wide with delight. “It’s patented.”

“Only my name on it, though. I still think yours should have been on it, too.”

Kurt slipped his hand to Blaine’s neck and pulled him in for a rough and dirty kiss. “My contribution was minimal, but this...” They shared another, more lingering kiss. “You really are a rock star. Have you told anyone?”

“Just you. It came in Saturday’s mail, but I wanted you to be the first to know.”

Kurt stared at the official documents and twined his hand with Blaine’s. “This is thrilling.”

“I thought it might even get me laid.” He raised his eyebrows in a half comic, half seductive way.

“You’ll get whatever you want tonight, Mister Anderson.” Kurt handed the paperwork back to Blaine, his eyes filled with joy. They began to walk toward Blaine’s dorm room, holding hands.

As they passed a bench, Kurt brushed his lips against Blaine’s ear and whispered, “Sit with me for a moment?”

Blaine caught the hesitance in Kurt’s voice and nodded a little nervously.

When they were seated, Kurt asked, “How long have we been dating?”

“Five years in February.”

“How many fights have we had? I don’t mean the little ones, serious fights.”

Blaine pondered. “Maybe three? I’m assuming my making out with ‘Rudolf’ counts?”

“Yeah. It could have broken us up. The subject of tonight’s fight was a lot more serious than that, but, and I want to be absolutely clear about this, it wasn’t one that could destroy us. Or at least I didn’t think it was until you asked me if I was breaking up with you. Five years and I love you more every day. Do we really feel that fragile to you?”

Blaine put his head on Kurt’s shoulder. “What I feel for you -- and from you -- no, it doesn’t feel fragile at all. But you said it was about our joint future, and, sometimes, that doesn’t feel secure. Especially now. We’re over an hour away from each other again. I know guys are hitting on you, and I _know_ you say no to them all, but there are always buses waiting to crash into buildings or riding your bike without a helmet or some stupid, drunk driver... and -- it's illogical, I know -- I fear more than I did because we’re apart.”

Kurt kissed his forehead. They looked out over the city together. “Are you working construction over the winter break?”

“No. Jim Kawalski said I’m welcome to come back next summer, but he’s trying to keep his regular crew fully employed at the moment. Besides, it's not like we need the money, and some of those guys on the crew do.”

“I was wondering, then, I know it’s kind of late notice, but do you think Aunt Kent could join us and my family in DC over the holiday?”

“I didn’t know you guys were planning to travel over Christmas and New Year’s.”

Kurt grinned and pulled him closer. “We weren’t. As I said, it’s late notice. I’d like to have Mercedes there, too, of course. Is there anyone you want to stand with you besides Aunt Kent?”

Blaine sat up and faced Kurt. “You’re proposing?”

“I know there are other places we could do it -- if you'd prefer somewhere else, just say so -- but DC has always been what we’ve talked about and...”

“Are you asking me to marry you?” Blaine wanted to be perfectly clear.

“I am.”

“Why now?”

“Because we have three more semesters for our B.A.s and at least two years of graduate school beyond that, and I don’t want you thinking that even a serious fight means we’re breaking up or that physical separation means we’re not forever. It’s short notice. It might be expensive to find hotel rooms now, but I thought starting the New Year together...” He was cut off with a soft kiss.

“Yes, I’ll marry you. It can be in Washington or Timbuktu for all I care. Expensive?” He shook his head and smiled fondly at his fiancé. “I know we’re saving my trust for grad school or starting our business, but, for heaven’s sake, I’m a millionaire now. I can afford a few hotel rooms for a week or two.” He kissed Kurt again, just because he could. “We’ll find a nice officiant through secular humanism.org, if that’s all right.”

“It’s perfect. I appreciate a traditional-ish ceremony, even if I _am_ an atheist.”

“New Year’s Eve or New Year’s Day?”

“You pick. My only request is matching wedding rings.”

“Twenty-four/seven. I thought maybe you wanted to wait until it was recognized nationally, and I would have respected it, but...”

Kurt nodded a little sadly. “I wish it were recognized here. I know in some ways, this is just for us until we leave Ohio -- especially if you were serious about University of Cincinnati for grad school.”

“It’s one of the top schools, and it has interior design for you -- or the conservatory if you're more interested in performance. I think it’s perfect for us.”

“I do, too." He shrugged. "Maybe they’ll let us on the married dorms anyway.” He pulled Blaine to him and held him close. “The professor for my one Wednesday class had a family emergency. I can stay until Thursday morning, if you’ll have me.”

“Can I keep you in bed all day? I have time between my classes to come back and fuck.”

Kurt looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “You know, all my friends think you’re the romantic in this relationship,” he said drily.

“I want to go back to my room and make love to my fiancé for the next two nights and the day in between,” he said earnestly.

Kurt laughed. “Our dicks would fall off.” He gave Blaine a crushing kiss. “Besides, we have to spend part of our time calling Dad and Carole and Aunt Kent and making arrangements.”

“Can we come home by train? I want to make love to you on a train. We never had the privacy in Europe.” Blaine was bouncing like a puppy.

“Anything my husband wants.”

***

Kurt stood on one of the tiny balconies of their suite and listened to the shouts of the people below greeting the New Year. His husband came up behind him and clasped his left hand so that their rings touched. He brought their hands to his lips and kissed Blaine’s hand.

Paying for the wedding had been an interesting series of compromises. Kurt planned the reception, but paid for the rings, officiant, and marriage license while Blaine had put together the ceremony -- with some strict boundaries from Kurt about religious readings -- and covered the cost of the afternoon tea reception. Blaine paid for the honeymoon suite at a wonderful hotel, while Kurt paid for the train tickets to Cleveland and the room they’d share on it.

Blaine kissed Kurt’s shoulder. “Baby, it’s cold outside.”

“But this time I really _can_ stay, Mister Hummel.”

 _That had been the biggest surprise of the ceremony. Blaine had vetoed hyphenating their names as any variation on Anderson-Hummel seemed like too big a mouthful, especially if they had kids. At the ceremony, after pronouncing them married, the officiant had asked them each to sign the license publicly. Kurt was first, and then Blaine. When she read their signatures out loud, Kurt was shocked to hear that Blaine Anderson would henceforth be known as Blaine Hummel._

 _Burt was as touched as Kurt, and he asked Blaine why over a glass of champagne and a smoked salmon sandwich at the reception. “My family made it clear that I was a disgrace to the name of Anderson. Your family made it clear that you accepted me.”_

 _Burt nodded. “I’m proud to have you share the name, kid.”_

Kurt turned in his husband’s arms and tilted his head for a lingering kiss.

Blaine had a Cheshire cat smile on his face, and Kurt said, “Tell me.”

“How long have we been lovers?”

“Just over four years.”

“Why did making love tonight feel like so much more?” Blaine asked.

Kurt raised an eyebrow and said, “Because it was solemn -- a private consummation of public vows.”

“I’m glad we’re married.”

 _The other big surprise had been the wording of the vows. First, Aunt Kent had given Blaine to be married, and Burt had given Kurt._

 _Having Blaine hold his right hand and hearing him say, “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with my worldly goods I do thee endow” had sent a shiver up Kurt’s spine._

The noise in the street died down, and Kurt kissed his new-made husband again, this time more insistently. He whispered, “I want you inside me tonight.”

Blaine smiled against his lips. “I love you, Angel.”

***  
Three weeks later, Kurt walked up to Blaine outside the classroom where the Solar Decathlon Team was meeting.

“You look like the cat who ate the canary,” Blaine said.

“I got a call from the music director of the Cleveland Philharmonic. I won the role. I’ll be rehearsing with them from now through the end of the school year to prepare for next season's English music concerts.”

“Recording?”

Kurt nodded. “I’ll even get a small royalty for every hundred copies sold. It’s a huge opportunity.”

“I’m thrilled for you. Are you still going to work on the decathlon?”

Kurt took his husband’s hand. “You bet I am. I want to keep all our options open.”

Blaine smiled sweetly, and kissed the ring on Kurt’s finger. Then they walked into the room together.


End file.
